


There and Back Again: Into Space

by Pollux Gemini (The_Gemini_Twins)



Series: Big Damn Adventure [1]
Category: Firefly, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Verse, Dwarves in Space, Gen, Thorin Oakenshield's Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 216,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Gemini_Twins/pseuds/Pollux%20Gemini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield and his crew of misfits were happy aboard the Arkenstone. For five years they had traveled in relative peace doing jobs as they pleased. One day they board an abandoned ship to find a precious case. The moment they open that case their lives changed forever.</p><p>(If you love Firefly and you love the Hobbit then this is the story for you!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Halfling

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, notes at the top first! This story is written solely by Pollux! Because Castor said she'd rather read this story since apparently it would turn out better if I wrote it on my own. So far this story has obtained decent reviews from readers on Fanfiction, so I hope you all enjoy it too! Also, I've already had two stories deleted from Fanfiction because they weren't rated M, so I don't know how the ratings go on this site. I'm just going to do M to be safe.
> 
> Firefly Fandom + Hobbit Fandom = One Big Damn Adventure

**The Halfling**

_January, 5015 Gondor_

He was dead. Captain Thorin ‘Oakenshield’ Durin, Dwarf of the Erebor moon in the Khazad system was dead. And he knew it, if the handcuffs around his wrists and the cold steel chair he sat in were anything to go by. The impeccably dressed agent – Smith, if Thorin remembered correctly – standing by the door talking with his associate only added to that feeling.

Rubbing one thumb against the other, Thorin’s mind wandered back to his little friend. He could still remember the horror on his little friend’s face as Dwalin tried to beat back every man who drew near him. It was all in vain, though. They had been captured: the Dwarves arrested and the Halfling dragged away to cold examination tables and pointy needles.

Thorin’s eyes flicked upward as Smith turned away from his associate with a nod and made his way to the steel table Thorin sat at. The Dwarf’s handcuffs had been looped through a d-ring screwed into the table, disabling the movement of his hands.

“So, Thorin . . . Oakenshield, is it?” Smith asked, consulting a stack of papers in his hands. “Or is it Durin? I never can tell with you Dwarves.” Thorin’s eyes narrowed at that. Trust the Government of the Free Peoples to send a prejudice agent to interrogate him.

“Durin,” Thorin said coldly. “Oakenshield is a name used only by my friends and enemies.”

“In other words,” the Man clarified. “Not for the use of the government.” Thorin gave him a single nod and the man pulled back the second chair to sit down, crossing his legs at the knee. The papers in his hands were tossed onto the table. Thorin had a second to see a photo of himself before it was covered by a hand.

“Thorin Durin, captain of _the Arkenstone_ ,” Agent Smith said. He drummed his fingers against the table. “Do you know why you’re here today?” Thorin didn’t grace him with an answer but for the growing glower. “You’re wanted on multiple accounts of theft, black-market dealings, multiple accounts of murder, assault, fleeing authorities, breaking out of prison, resisting arrest, and the illegal kidnapping and possession of a Halfling.” The small smile Thorin had made at the mention of ‘breaking out of prison’ vanished with the last accusation. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Agent Smith asked.

“Where is the Halfling?” Thorin asked.

“That is none of your business,” Agent Smith snapped. “The Halfling has suffered enough in your hands. Preliminary examinations have revealed multiple scars around his ear, at the base of his neck, and down his right arm. What was your purpose for kidnapping the Halfling?”

“We did not kidnap him,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. He would have continued if the agent had not interrupted him.

“Captain Durin, you and your crew are facing life in prison. According to the Restoration Act of the Fiftieth century it is against the law to remove a Halfling from a sanctuary. Your nephews and their friend . . .” the Man had to consult his notes once more. “Ori will be sent to a detention facility for youth when we have received their statement. You, though, you’re going straight to prison.”

“We did not take the Halfling from his sanctuary,” Thorin repeated himself, his clenched knuckles turning white at the mention of his nephews. “We found him - .”

“And where do you just happen to find a Halfling? They’re not exactly running amuck, now are they?”

“Yes, he was kidnaped. But we did not do it."

“There are thirteen Dwarves on your crew, correct?” Thorin nodded at that. “Nori and Dwalin are both more than capable of kidnapping a Halfling. You and Dwalin yourselves served multiple tours in the Khazad military.”

“Nori is nothing more than an informant,” Thorin said. He wanted nothing more than to either massage his temples or strangle the agent, maybe both. “Kidnapping is not his particular area of work.”

“And yet he was caught attempting to release the Halfling from his room on this ship before he was arrested.”

“And Dwalin has too much pride and honor to kidnap someone.”

“Again, Dwalin attacked seven Men when we attempted to draw near the Halfling before he was restrained. One of those Men is currently in critical condition.”

“Why would we want to kidnap a Halfling?” Thorin demanded. “Tell me that. What use is a Halfling to thirteen Dwarves?”

“Halflings can go for a very high price on the black-market,” the Man pointed out. “We also have intel you used him when you recently reclaimed your home planet of Erebor. You sent him straight into a Dragon’s lair without a single thought for his safety.”

“Shut up!” Thorin roared in Khuzdul, having reached the end of his rope. The agent’s mouth clicked shut with a snap in surprise. “We did not kidnap the Halfling,” Thorin said slowly as he tried to remain calm. “We found him abandoned. It happened late last year; September, I think.”

“Are you issuing this as your official statement?” Agent Smith asked slowly.

“I am,” Thorin said. “We had ventured out into uncharted Goblin territory when we ran across a ship. She was a _Speeder 180_ refurbished for the use of smuggling. We never once considered the black spider on the helm of the ship when we saw her . . .”


	2. Treasures and Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the first chapter, the last was just a prologue. If I can, I will get a few more chapters up tonight. I hope you're enjoying the story!

**Treasures and Troubles**

_September 5014, Uncharted Goblin Territory_

“Ya see, right there,” Bofur said, pointing to the center of the ship’s moving engine. Thorin tried to follow his finger’s direction and failed miserably. To him the engine looked like nothing more than a heap of metal parts all forced together in one big mess.

“No, I do not see,” Thorin said. Bifur leaned around the corner of the engine from where he was working to glare at Thorin. “I have told you two before, I do not know the first thing about engines.”

“Look, just look,” Bofur said. He grabbed Thorin by the shoulder and turned him back to the moving engine. “In the center, it’s the thingy majiggy that looks like the end of a jackhammer. Do ya see it now?”

“Aye,” Thorin said. He turned his head this way and that. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

“What? Like Gloin’s attempt at carving a duck for his son? No. It’s supposed to look like the end of a jackhammer.” Bifur grumbled to himself unhelpfully and returned to his work. “Aye. I know what it’s actually called,” Bofur told his cousin with a laugh. “I just don’t like trying ta remember the name. It’s too long.”

“How important is it to the engine?” Thorin asked Bofur, trying to bring back his mechanic’s attention. “Will the ship run without it?”

“Aye, she’ll run,” Bofur said before chewing on his lip. “Fer about three or four days before the piece falls off. Then the engine’ll get jammed and we’ll be dead in the water.” Thorin sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

“Why did you not tell me of this when we were on the Iron Hills?” he asked.

Bofur shrugged. “We didn’t need it then.” Thorin groaned at that but clapped his friend on the shoulder.

“I will see about getting you a new part,” he said. Bofur thanked him happily and Thorin left him to work with Bifur on the engine. Stepping out of the engine room, Thorin was preparing to find Gloin when Fili’s voice carried down the expanse of the hall connecting the engine room to the cockpit.

“Thorin, you better come here!”

Groaning inwardly, Thorin turned on his heel and marched toward the other end of _the Arkenstone_. She was a Fiftieth century Dwarf carrier ship bought second hand and refurbished to act as a traveling vessel for the crew of thirteen Dwarves. The first floor of the ship contained the cockpit, the engine room, and a few spare rooms for the mechanics and pilots; the second was the general living area; and the third and lower level was the cargo bay.

“What is it, Fili?” Thorin asked his eldest nephew as he stomped into cockpit. “I need to find Gloin and tell him we need spare parts for the engine.”

“No need,” Fili said, pointing out the windshield. Before them floated a small ship clearly built for short-distance travel. A black spider graced the ship’s front helm.

“What is a small ship like that doing out here?” Thorin asked in surprise.

“It’s a _Speeder 180_ ,” Fili said, propping his heels up on one of the three control panels before him. “The Men created them to act as taxis between planets.”

“What’s she doing all the way out here?”

“The engine probably exploded.” Thorin leaned over the railing of the cockpit to see his younger nephew, Kili, reclining on the lower levels of the cockpit. “They’re not exactly reliable.”

“When you two talk about engines exploding . . ?” Thorin started uncertainly. “Do you mean it literally explodes? This ship looks to be in one piece.”

“Aye, that it is,” Fili agreed.

“The engine doesn’t really explode,” Kili said. “It more of just falls apart. The speed of the ship is too much in such a confined area of space that it just literally starts to fall apart.”

Thorin scratched his short beard, thinking through his options. There was a high chance there would still be food on board, the engine could still be largely in once piece, and there could be something precious that had been left behind. On the other hand . . .

“No traces of heat signatures,” Fili said, motioning to a radar screen before him. “And the escape pods are gone. All clear from here.” That sold it.

“Good work, Fili,” Thorin said as he clapped his eldest nephew on the shoulder. “Get us a way on that ship and you can leave the flying to Kili for the rest of the evening.”

“You mean we don’t get to go with you this time?” Kili asked sadly, his shoulders slumping.

“Not until you two have learned your lesson from Bree,” Thorin said. Turning around, he marched out of the cockpit and toward the stairs leading to the second level. He paused by the intercom panel to jam the black button in. “Dwalin, Nori,” he called through the speaker. “Meet me in the cargo bay in five. We have goods.”

With that said and done, Thorin made his way to his own sleeping quarters where he kept his weapons: his ax and sword. The two weapons were strapped to his hip and back and he made his way back out into the common area. The Men of the Fifty-first century may have used guns, but Thorin would take a good old sword over a gun any day. They were more reliable and didn’t need to be reloaded on a regular basis.

Balin was seated at the dining table in the center of the room when Thorin walked back through toward the cargo bay.

“Did the lads find something useful?” the older Dwarf asked curiously.

“An abandoned ship,” Thorin said. He paused before Balin to smile grimly at his old friend. “What have we become, Balin? Vultures picking at abandoned carcasses in hopes of food?” Balin sighed and removed his glasses from his face, rubbing his eyes.

“We are not vultures,” he said in a worn voice. “We are simply taking what others have left behind for our own benefits.”

“There would have been no need if Dain had simply agreed to take back Erebor,” Thorin growled.

“That Dragon is a danger to us all,” Balin reminded Thorin. “Smaug would kill us the moment we drew near to our home planet. Or have you forgotten what happened at Azunzilibar? You have made a good home for us in the Blue Mountains. Perhaps, one day, our time will come.” He perched the glasses back on his nose. “Now you better hurry before you are late, I believe you told Dwalin and Nori five minutes.”

Thorin nodded a farewell and hurried from the second level down to the third where a long set of stairs led to the cargo bay from a gangway. Nori and Dwalin were standing by the cargo bay doors, apparently arguing about something. The heated discussion stopped, though, when Thorin arrived.

“Dwalin, Nori,” Thorin greeted. Dwalin just nodded gruffly while Nori rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“So there’s goods to be had?” Nori asked Thorin excitedly. “Loot to be stolen.”

“I am not sure yet,” Thorin said slowly. “We are only looking for leftover food, spare parts for our engine, and anything valuable that may have been left behind.”

“What kind of spare parts are we talkin’ about?” Dwalin asked Thorin.

Thorin opened his mouth then realized just how stupid he sounded. “It looks like a jackhammer.” Nori broke out into cackling laughter while Dwalin rolled his eyes.

“Bofur’s still not callin’ parts by their proper name?” the tallest Dwarf asked.

“His brain is too small to remember all those names,” Nori chuckled out.

“It should be in the center of the engine,” Thorin said, trying to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. “Dwalin, you find the food. Nori, you search their cargo bay for anything of use to us.”

“You’ll look for you precious jackhammer?” Nori asked gleefully. Dwalin punched him in the arm and the thief just broke out into peals of laughter again.

A great tremor ran through the ship, jolting the three Dwarves sideways before Fili’s voice filtered over the intercom.

“I _told_ you not to hold that button for too long,” he was saying to Kili.

“You told me to hold it for five seconds,” Kili retorted, his voice fainter than Fili’s.

“That was eight seconds.”

“Was not!”

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Dwalin said to Thorin before he stepped up to a control panel and jammed down the red button. An alarm blared overhead as the cargo bay doors opened, releasing stale air into their own ship. Dwalin plugged his nose and Thorin coughed. Nori just wrinkled his nose at it and delicately sniffed the air.

“The engine’s not running,” he said. “Life support must have shut down sometime. Maybe that’s why they abandoned ship.”

“Keep the doors between the ship open,” Thorin ordered. “If you start to feel dizzy head back over here immediately. I do not want a repeat of Harad.” Drawing his sword, he crossed the connecting tunnel to the adjacent ship. The _Speeder’s_ doors opened with another hiss and Thorin stepped in. His trained eyes scanned the room before he pulled his head back in.

“It’s clear,” he called over his shoulder. Dwalin and Nori followed him quickly, looking around themselves. They stood in small room lined with shattered computer screens and what had once surely been plush carpet.

“Smugglers,” Nori said immediately.

“How do you know that?” Dwalin asked hotly.

“The computer screens,” Nori said, tapping a knuckle against the shattered glass. “Smuggler’s always shatter the computer screens so no one can hack into them or trace them back to the ship.”

“You’ve flown in one of these before?”

“And die in a fiery explosion? No thanks.”

“That’s enough, you two,” Thorin said. Turning around, he pointed at Dwalin. “Find the living areas. Nori, search the cargo bay.”

“Yes sir, captain sir,” Nori said with a sarcastic salute and he skipped down the hall. “Tra la la la lalley, back to the valley.” Dwalin watched him with a pained expression.

“Remind me why we didn’t leave him on the Misty Mountains?” Dwalin asked his friend.

“The Goblins would have found him before we left the atmosphere,” Thorin said. He turned to make his way out of the room.

“Exactly,” Dwalin said.

“And then proceed to make him their king.”

“Sure, but . . . wait, what?” Dwalin called after Thorin who just laughed.

Finding the engine room was harder than Thorin had hoped it would be. He made at least four wrong turns and was almost certain he went up the wrong set of stairs twice before he actually found it. He could only be thankful Dwalin wasn’t there to make fun of his atrocious directional skills.

Nori had been right. The engine stood stock still in its cradle, the steel cold under touch. Crouching down, Thorin examined the mess of parts before he located the necessary part he needed. He had just pulled the part free from its position when a thought crossed his mind. Thorin stood and walked around the engine, examining every piece he could see. Nothing was missing. The engine wasn’t falling apart at the seams like Fili said they did.

“Then why did the crew leave?” Thorin muttered to himself. He shoved the piece in his coat pocket before he turned and left the engine room to find Dwalin and Nori. Dwalin was easy enough to find, making a ruckus in the living area. He was shoving packs of dried food into a bag he’d found, only turning when Thorin arrived.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Dwalin asked Thorin warily. He swung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed Grasper the ax with his other hand.

“The engine is still in one piece,” Thorin said slowly. “The ship did not break down as Nori thought it did.”

“Then why did they leave?” Dwalin asked, mimicking Thorin’s earlier thought.

“That I cannot say,” Thorin said. “I think it would be best if we find Nori and leave now.”

“Alright, I’m done here anyway.”

The two Dwarves left the living area quickly to find Nori in the lower cargo bay. Thorin couldn’t help but notice it looked like nothing more than a small room as they made their way down the stairs. He could just barely make out Nori crouching over something in the center of the small room.

“Nori,” Thorin called to the thief. “We are leaving.” When Nori didn’t respond, Thorin tried again. “Nori, come on.”

“Let’s go, you lazy thief,” Dwalin roared over Throin’s shoulder. Thorin turned to glare at him, rubbing his now ringing ear.

“Was that truly necessary?” Thorin asked. Dwalin responded with a shrug before pushing Thorin down the steps toward Nori who finally turned around.

“You two make more noise than an Oliphaunt in a forest,” Nori commented. Behind the thieving Dwarf Thorin could now see a silver case. It was nearly four feet long and two feet wide. The surface was smooth, marked only by a black spider in the dead-center.

“What did you find, Nori?” Dwalin asked warily. Thorin walked around Nori to crouch beside the case, running a hand over it.

“Mithril,” he breathed, recognizing the familiar metal.

“Contraband,” Nori said gleefully. “Pure black-market contraband.”

“What’s it worth?” Dwalin asked.

“We can’t know until we open it,” Nori said. He turned to Thorin with a familiar puppy-dog eye look. “It could be something worth our while.”

“Thorin,” Dwalin said in a warning tone. “If this is black-market then the government could be after it.”

“Then we better not let the government find it,” Thorin said. “Grab the other end, Dwalin.” The taller Dwarf grumbled but hastened to obey. Together, the two Dwarves lifted the surprisingly light case off the floor.

“Mithril,” Dwalin said, blinking in surprise.

“You noticed too?” Thorin asked Dwalin as they carried the case, Dwalin walking backward up the steps.

“That means someone didn’t want their precious cargo to be damaged,” Nori said. He followed Thorin up the steps and through the halls of the ship into their own. Bofur and Balin were waiting for them on the other side. Bofur brightened curiously at the sight of the crate while Balin frowned.

“What did you find there, lad?” Balin asked Thorin.

“We will not know until we open it,” Thorin grunted. He and Dwalin lowered the crate carefully to the floor.

“Did ya find the piece I needed?” Bofur asked.

“Your jackhammer piece?” Nori asked Bofur before breaking out into cackles. The mechanic just looked between Thorin and Nori in confusion. Thorin could do nothing but shrug and hand Bofur the piece the mechanic had asked for.

“Well, are we goin’ to open this case or not?” Dwalin asked. Thorin knelt beside the case and tugged at the one of the two latches. It didn’t budge.

“Nori,” he said in his best commanding tone. The thief knelt down beside him and tested the latches himself.

“Electronic,” Nori muttered to himself. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out a small hand-held device Thorin didn’t recognize. Cords were plugged into small computer jacks and Nori sat back on his heels, pressing buttons. “It should only be a few seconds now.”

“A few seconds until what?” Bofur asked, his confusion growing. “What did ya guys find over there?” His words were cut off by the latches clicking open automatically.

“That’s my girl,” Nori crowed. Together he and Thorin pushed the crate’s lid open. A heavy mist fell over them from the crate, covering their clothes in drops of water and dissipating before it hit the floor. Balin and Dwalin leaned forward curiously to get better looks. Waving the rest of the mist away, Thorin peered into the crate. His jaw clenched and his stomach dropped.

Inside the crate was a young man no taller than a child. He could have easily been mistaken for one. His copper curls hung down past in chin, his skin an unhealthy pallor. He wore nothing but a pair of plain trousers that ended at his ankles, revealing the curling hair atop his feet.

It was a Halfling.


	3. Discussions and Deliberations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so much easier to post on AO3 then it is on Fanfiction! I wonder if I could the entire story I've written so far posted tonight. >:D Here comes a Big Damn Challenge!

**Discussions and Deliberations**

Dwalin had never hated the race of Men more than he did now. He had always considered them a needy lot, using other races they’d found to help produce what they needed. But this? This topped it all. Those filthy Men had dared to touch the Dwarves’ Halfling, even after seven of them had been taken out by Dwalin himself before he had been stuck from behind by an electric baton.

Dwalin twisted at the handcuffs behind his back. He had woken up in a dark cell with only a small lamp swinging from the ceiling. Someone had looped the chain of his handcuffs through the rails of the steel chair he sat in, effectively trapping him there. Apparently they had felt it necessary to bind his legs to the chair. Dwalin could only guess they’d done it after he had kicked a Man hard between the legs.

There was a click as the room’s only door swung open and Dwalin turned to stare at the new comer. He was a tall Man with cropped dark hair, impeccably dressed for his job. The man consulted a sheet of notes as he strode forward to stand before Dwalin.

“A son of Fundin,” the man finally said, lowering the notes. “I knew your father when he worked for the Government of the Free Peoples. He was very influential, a great Dwarf to work with.” Dwalin didn’t even bother gracing the Man with answer, knowing it wouldn’t stop him in the least. “I was sorry to hear of his passing at the fields of Moria. We lost a great Dwarf that day.”

“We lost a lot of great Dwarves that day,” Dwalin growled, jerking at the handcuffs again.

“For a while it seemed your brother Balin would follow in your father’s footsteps,” the Man continued. “It was a shame to us all when he left with you for the Blue Mountains. Of course, you were showing true potential for the military. You paperwork says you were aiming to be a general one day.”

“Aye, what of it?” Dwalin asked. The Man looked at him over the papers.

“When you were offered the position after the Moria you denied it,” he said. “Why?”

“I didn’t want the job anymore,” Dwalin said with a shrug.

“So you moved to the Blue Mountains and joined the police task force there. Where you spent much of your time trying to hunt down the notorious criminal Nori.” Dwalin sneered at the mention of the thief. “Funny how you two should end up working on the same ship for Thorin Durin.”

“It wasn’t planned, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“Ah, you see, that’s exactly what we’re thinking.” The Man began to pace around the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “Nori is clearly an expert thief. He knows how to sneak about unnoticed and has had deals with the black-market previously. You proved to us early yesterday you are capable of taking on several grown Men.”

“Where is this goin’?” Dwalin growled at the Man. “I don’t want to her you jabberin’ all day long.”

“Mr. Dwalin, you are already in enough trouble as it is,” the Man said, stopping in his pacing. “It would be best for us all if you would cooperate. Now, Nori’s older brother Dori was a professor at the Blue Mountains Academy teaching anthropology of other races.”

“What of it?”

“Were you aware Dori is an expert in Halflings?” the Man asked. “One of the few people outside of the race of the Dunedain, I believe.”

“Speaking of Halflings,” Dwalin said, glaring at the Man. “Where’s ours?”

“If you are referring to the Halfling we rescued from your clutches yester at eight o’clock in the morning, he is being examined for any substantial injuries. And, for the record, he is not _your_ Halfling.”

“We found him.”

“Ah, yes, the illustrious tale of the Dwarves to the rescue. Thorin was telling me about how you found the Halfling.”

“But he never got past that part?”

“Unfortunately he refused to go any further than your finds on the ship. But if you’d like to enlighten me further I would be happy to listen.”

Dwalin looked the Man up and down, weighing his options before he finally spoke. “We were all a little shocked to find a Halfling in that crate, Thorin more than the rest of us . . .”

O.o.O

Thorin stared at the body in the crate. He didn’t notice Balin reach past him to run his fingers through the Halfling’s curls.

“Bless me,” Bofur breathed. He leaned in for a closer look. “Is that what I think it is?” Balin’s hand moved to press against the Halfling’s cheek and then to hover by his nose.

“He is breathing,” Balin said in surprise.

“But the life support was shut down,” Dwalin said, the terror clear in his voice. “How can he possibly be alive when no one could have survived in those conditions?”

Bofur crouched down to run his fingers along the inside of the crate. His fingers pressed against a spongey padding. He knocked on the lid of the crate, hearing a hollow _thunk_.

“This is a status pod,” Bofus said wisely. “It keeps people in cryo and alive fer a while. It has its own life support system in the lid to keep anyone alive.”

Silence hung in the air while the five Dwarves stared down at the Halfling. Nori and Bofur had both stood up but Thorin remained crouched down, staring at the Halfling’s peaceful face. Did he have any idea what kind of situation he was in?

“Why would anyone want ta keep a Halfling in cryo?” Bofur asked no one in particular.

“It’s clear,” Nori said in disgust. “They wanted to sell him on the black-market. Halflings are so hard to come by you could name any bidding price and someone would take it.”

“What do we do?” Balin asked softly. “Thorin?” Thorin’s eyes flicked to his old friend before up to Dwalin when the taller Dwarf spoke.

“We space it,” Dwalin said. “Open the hatch and let it fly.”

“Dwalin!” Balin said in shock. “How can you suggest such a thing? That would be murder.”

“We’ll all be dead if the Government discovers we’ve got this on our ship,” Dwalin snapped back. “It’s a life sentence to even talk to one.”

“Yer not throwing him over,” Bofur said. He placed himself between Dwalin and the Halfling, his arms crossed. “He doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“Then he’ll die peacefully,” Dwalin said. “What would you do if the Government boarded the ship and found the Halfling?”

“Explain what happened,” Bofur said as though it was clear.

“The Government doesn’t listen to anyone,” Dwalin said. “They’re all too worried about themselves and whether the public likes them.”

“But that would be murder,” Balin insisted. “We cannot simply throw a Halfling out to die in space. They are an endangered species.”

“Then we find someone who’s willing to return it home,” Nori suggested.

“And who’s goin’ to be willin’ to do that?”

“Enough,” Thorin said before any of the other Dwarves could speak. “Bofur, Dwalin, take the Halfling down to Oin and have him check it out. Bofur, fit it with translators. Balin, Nori, space the crate. We do not want anyone seeing it.”

“Aye, lad,” Balin said. He and Nori moved to grab the crate but paused when Dwalin grabbed Thorin by the shoulder.

“You can’t be serious, Thorin?” Dwalin said. “Do you have any idea what you’re even doin’?”

“Aye, I do,” Thorin said. He shrugged Dwalin’s hand off his shoulder before hurrying up the steps and through the halls to the cockpit. Fili and Kili, who had been laughing, jumped in surprise at his abrupt, and rather loud, arrival.

“Thorin,” Kili yelped, falling backward down the steps. “Ow.” Thorin ignored him, turning to Fili.

“Chart a course for the Hobbiton moon in the Shire system,” he ordered.

“But that’s a sanctuary,” Fili said. “We would be boarded before we even got in the atmosphere.”

“I did not say get us onto the moon,” Thorin said rougher than he meant to. “Just get us close enough to hail Gandalf or one of the Dunedain.”

“Yes sir,” Fili muttered. He turned back to the controls and flipped a few switches before pulling the steering wheel out of its cradle. _The Arkentstone_ eased away from the _Speeder 180_ before taking off with a blast of gasoline and a screech of the engine. Thorin gripped the back of Fili’s seat tightly, his eyes scanning every inch of the black sky before them.

“Are you alright, Thorin?” Kili asked. He sat on the lower steps and rubbed his head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I am fine,” Thorin said softly. A red button flashed on the control panel accompanied by a single, long obnoxious tone.

“Someone’s opened the safety doors for the cargo bay,” Fili said, frowning. He reached over and toggled a switch before checking another screen. “What are Balin and Nori doing? We’re not spacing anyone, are we?” His blue eyes turned on Thorin who glowered at him.

“Never you mind right now,” Thorin said. “You two will learn at dinner. Just set a course for the Hobbiton moon.” He had just turned to head back down to the cargo bay when Oin’s voice roared through the intercom.

“THORIN, LADDIE, YOU BETTER GET DOWN HERE!” Oin shouted. Thorin groaned. The volume of Oin’s voice suggested his hearing aids had been knocked out again. “NOW!” Oin added loudly.

“Thorin, what’s going on?” Fili called after Thorin.

“Never mind,” Thorin shouted back before he raced down the hall. Leaping down the steps, he raced through the second level until he reached the other end of the ship where the medical bay was located. Already he could see some kind of fight was going down; and Dwalin was in the middle of it.

Oin stood by the intercom panel in the medical bay, his finger still on the ‘speak’ button, as he shouted unhelpfully at Dwalin and Bofur, the latter of which had a nose bleed. Dwalin and Bofur were struggling to contain a small mess of flailing limbs. Bofur was struck in the face again with a small fist and he stumbled back, cursing loudly.

Thorin nearly broke down the medical bay doors just trying to open them. He was greeted by Oin’s loud shouting and a terrible screeching sound.

“Thorin, help me!” Dwalin shouted. He was attempting to pin down the Halfling’s shoulders while the small creature struggled wildly. Jumping into the fray, Thorin grabbed a shoulder and a knee and forced the Halfling to lie down flat on the table. Dwalin managed to pin down the other side and the Halfling was finally stilled. His green eyes flicked around the room at a sickening speed, terror clear in them.

“What happened?” Thorin growled as the Halfling began to struggle again.

“Oin was examinin’ him,” Dwalin grunted. “Then Bofur tried to put the translators in his ears and he woke up screaming like an orc.”

“Oin, straps,” Thorin barked at their medic.

“What?” Oin asked in a loud voice.

“STRAPS!” Bofur shouted back. “THORIN WANTS STRAPS!”

“Alright, alright, calm down, laddie,” Oin grumbled. “I’m not deaf.” Thorin and Dwalin shared a look before they returned their focus to the Halfling. He may not have been very large but by Mahal he was strong.

Oin appeared at Thorin’s side with a set of straps in his hands. Looping one around the Halflin’s left wrist he managed to tie it down to a d-ring in the table. The other wrist followed then the ankles and finally the wrist. Dwalin and Thorin stepped back to look at the trapped Halfling who opened his mouth and screamed again.

“Shut up!” Dwalin roared before slapping a great paw of a hand over the Halfling’s mouth. Thorin turned around and ripped open one of the man drawers in the medical bay. He sifted through the supplies before shutting it and opening another one.

“What are you looking for, laddie?” Oin asked, but Thorin ignored him. Finding what he was looking for, he turned around with a syringe in one hand and a bottle of sedative in the other. Bofur’s eyes widened.

“That could kill him,” he said through his bloody nose. “You don’t know how buch to gib hib.” Thorin expertly filled the syringe with the sedative, being careful to only take a dose small enough for a small Dwarfling before he advanced on the Halfling who struggled harder.

“Hold him still, Dwalin,” Thorin ordered. Dwalin did so as Thorin pricked the Halfling’s wrist and injected the sedative into its bloodstream. It was several seconds before the Halfling’s struggles stopped and his body relaxed. His head lolled to the side, his eyes only barely open. There was silence in the room, then Dwalin stepped back to allow Oin to look over the Halfling.

“It’s only sedated,” Oin finally said, looking over his shoulder at Thorin. “But it should remain calm now.”

“Good, we need to keep it that way until it is no longer a threat to us or itself.” Thorin threw the syringe into a trashcan then turned back to Oin. “Did you learn anything from your examinations?” he asked the medic.

“What?” Oin asked, cupping a hand around his ear. Bofur, mercifully, stepped up and fiddled with the hearing aid before Oin brightened up. “Ah, that’s better. Now what did you say, laddie?”

“What did you learn from the examinations?” Thorin repeated.

“The Halfling is suffering from malnutrition,” Oin said sadly, running a hand through the Halfling’s hair. “There’s a healing bullet wound in his right leg and a terrible scar on the nape of his neck.” Thorin and Dwalin frowned at each other before Oin turned the Halfling’s head to show them the knotted scar.

“Where we would it get a scar like that?” Dwalin asked softly, running a finger over the marred skin.

“Probably from whoever took it,” Oin said. “I’ve heard Halflings are injected with trackers after their born to keep track of them. The smugglers must have removed it to hide their scent.”

“Then Bofur told you where we found the Halfling?” Thorin asked Oin who nodded.

“Aye that he did. But what are we going to do with a Halfling on board. It’s illegal.”

“We are not keeping it,” Thorin said, looking around at the other three Dwarves. “We are returning it to Gandalf so it may return to the sanctuary. Bofur, the translators.”

The engineer nodded sadly and stepped up to the medical table. He had managed to staunch his nose bleed with tissues, though blood had dried on the front of his jacket. Crooning gently to the Halfling, he carefully took a hold of a pointed ear and slipped a small ear-bud into the canal. The Halfling jumped in surprise when a stiff wire was hooked up and around its ear. The process was repeated to the other ear and Bofur stepped back.

“Thank you, Bofur,” Thorin said. “You may return to the engine room now.” The usually smiling Dwarf hastened to obey.

“Are you goin’ to tell the rest of the crew?” Dwalin asked Thorin, crossing his arms.

“Aye,” Thorin said. “There’s no use hiding a secret they will eventually learn about. It is a small ship, after all. We will tell them at dinner tonight. Until then, Oin, keep the Halfling sedated and take whatever actions you need to ensure its health.”

“Of course, Thorin,” Oin said.

Thorin nodded to each Dwarf in turn before he left the medical bay, only to find Balin waiting for him outside. The older Dwarf nodded through the window to the Halfling inside.

“How is it?” he asked.

“Malnourished,” Thorin said. “And healing from previous injuries.”

“What kind of injuries?” Thorin crossed his arms at the question and sniffed.

“A bullet wound in his leg and scarring at the base of his neck,” Thorin said. “Oin suspects the Halfling had a tracker the smugglers forcibly removed.”

“We can always ask Dori for help,” Balin suggested wisely. “If I remember correctly he was studying them for several years before you called him to join your crew.”

“We are not keeping it,” Thorin said gruffly before he turned around to head down the hall. “We are returning it to Gandalf as soon as possible.”

“Then we are heading for the Shirt system.”

“Aye.”

“Thorin,” Balin said, stopping in his tracks. Thorin paused and turned to look at his old friend. “What if they do not take it back? The Halfling will have nowhere to go.”

“That will not be our problem,” Thorin said. “Why would they not take it back? It is an endangered species on the brink of extinction. Any return of a single organism would be a blessing to those Men.” Balin planted his hands on his hips, a sure sign he was about to argue, when he sighed in defeat and nodded.

“Aye, you are probably right,” he said. “It may be for the best.” He glanced once over his shoulder before turning back to Thorin. “Thank you, Thorin.”

“For what?”

“For not taking my brother’s advice to murder the Halfling. That was a kind thing you did back there. Not many people would have been willing to do such a thing.”

“I only did what I felt was best,” Thorin said before he turned around to leave.

“When are you going to tell the crew?” Balin asked him quickly. Thorin looked at him over his shoulder.

“Now,” he said. He continued down the hall to the common area where he pressed the button on the intercom panel and spoke into the microphone. “I need all crew to the common area immediately. I have some news for you all.” Taking his finger off the button, Thorin stepped back and waited.

It took seven minutes for the entire crew to gather at the dining table. Kili and Fili had been the first to arrive, taking their usual positions near the head of the table where Thorin would have sat. Bombur was at the other end with his brother and cousin at his sides. Bofur seemed more dejected then usual sitting with Nori on his other side. Dori sat between his brothers while Gloin, Oin, and Balin seated themselves on the other side of the table. Dwalin stood beside Thorin, his arms crossed.

“I am sure you are all aware of the ship we boarded today,” Thorin began. “It was abandoned by smugglers. We managed to find a spare part and some food so the ship will continue to run for another good five months.” Dwalin looked at Thorin out of the corner of his eye but Thorin ignored him.

“What else did you find?” Gloin asked Thorin.

“Who said we found anything else?” Dwalin growled.

“Why else would Thorin call a meeting for useless news like that?” Gloin snapped back. “We would have heard it anyway from Bofur or Nori.”

“That, Gloin, is because we did not just find food and parts,” Thorin said. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head. “The smugglers left behind something extremely precious that Nori managed to find.”

“Will it sell for a good price?” Fili asked interestedly.

“Is it gold?” Kili asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” Gloin snorted. “Gold is far too abundant for low lying smugglers to sell on the black-market. You can buy it anywhere.” Thorin’s eyes narrowed as the argument began to escalate.

“Then if it’s not gold maybe it’s mithril,” Kili countered. “That’s not very abundant, is it? I’ve heard that can go as high as ten coins a gram.”

“Nah,” Nori said, waving a hand dismissively. “Mithril goes for a much higher price.”

“And how do you know?” Dori asked his brother. “You have never seen an ounce of mithril in your life.”

“Well I did today,” Nori said.

“So it is mithril,” Kili said excitedly, a grin growing on his face. “Excellent. Are we heading to the Misty Mountains?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Fili told his brother. He frowned at Thorin. “Thorin’s set a course for the Hobbiton moon in the Shire.”

“Hobbiton,” Gloin repeated. “That’s a sanctuary. Why are we going there? Is Dori trying to study Halflings again?”

“I gave up that life when I joined this crew,” Dori retorted, crossing his arms. “There is no reason for us to go to Hobbiton, unless . . .” He turned his eyes on Thorin who nodded.

“The smugglers had a Halfling,” Thorin said. Silence hung in the air for a moment before Gloin, Bifur, and Dori started shouting.

“Are you _mad_?”

“We’ll get arrested for sure!”

Bifur’s long string of Khuz-dul ended with a rather rude hand gesture that both Bofur and Bombur shouted at him for. The injured Dwarf just gave a shrug and returned to his seat.

“Shut up!” Dwalin roared, quieting down the arguing Dwarves.

“As I was saying,” Thorin said. “We are heading to Hobbiton so we can tell Gandalf and return the Halfling to its sanctuary.”

“Why don’t we keep it?” Ori asked softly. Twelve pairs of eyes fell on him and he flushed brightly. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I think you better take this one, Dori,” Nori said, nudging his older brother in the ribs. Dori sighed but nodded before he turned to the three youngest Dwarves.

“In the forty-eighth century the race of Men found the Shire system,” Dori explained. “The Halflings welcomed them to their land and taught them how to cultivate the soil. It was not until late into the forty-ninth century and the early fiftieth century the Men began to notice the decline of the Halflings to nearly twenty percent of their original numbers. They had polluted the air and water, making the land uninhabitable for the Halflings. Thus, the Act of Restoration was declared in 4914 declared the Shire system a sanctuary for the Halflings to repopulate in. It became illegal to remove a Halfling from the sanctuary and to have one aboard your ship.”

“They’re popular on the black-market,” Nori added quickly. “I’ve seen lots of people use it for scams. Claim they have a Halfling, get the money, and take off before they reveal they don’t have the goods.”

“So, if the Government finds out we have a Halfling on board . . .” Fili said slowly.

“Then we’re all dead meat,” Dwalin said. “We’ll be arrested and thrown into prison for the rest of our lives.” Ori, Fili, and Kili paled at the thought of prison.

“Which is why we are returning it to its sanctuary,” Thorin said. “Gandalf is a reasonable man, he will be thankful to have his Halfling back in its proper home.”

“What was it even doing on the smuggler’s ship, though?” Gloin asked. “The Dunedain are in charge of the Halflings’ sanctuary and they don’t let anyone in or out.”

“There has been . . . talk,” Dori admitted. “I have been keeping up with news of the Halflings. The Government has been talking about closing the sanctuary.”

“What?” Bofur asked, his head snapping up. “But the Halflings’ population has only increased by thirteen percent since the Act of Restoration.”

“New senators have come into office since then,” Dori said. “They are starting to think the sanctuary is taking up too many of their resources to continue.”

“But if they shut down the sanctuary then the Halflings will lose their protection,” Bofur said. “They’d be dead before the end of the century.”

“They’d be dead before the end of the decade,” Gloin corrected the engineer.

“That is not our problem right now,” Thorin said. “We are doing nothing more than returning the Halfling to its sanctuary.”

“You said there was mithril,” Kili said to Nori. “Where is that then? Can we sell that for money?”

“We spaced it,” Nori muttered.

“What?” Gloin demanded. “You spaced a precious metal we could have used to buy us a new ship.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this ship,” Dwalin said, but no one was paying attention to him.

“The Halfling was kept in a mithril cryo case to keep him alive,” Nori snapped at Gloin. “If the Government found that they would know what we were doing for sure.”

“I did not call you all in here to argue about the morals of the Halfling sanctuary or the price of mithril,” Thorin growled out. “I called you here to tell you what we found and what we are doing with it. Fili, how long of a flight is it to the Shire system.”

“Nine days,” Fili suggested. “Eight if we burn it hot enough.”

“Then burn it hot,” Thorin said. “I do not want this Halfling on my ship any longer than it needs to be.” Fili nodded before he and Kili stood, fleeing to the safety of the cockpit. “I need someone to watch over the Halfling to ensure he does not hurt anyone or himself.”

“I’ll do it,” Bofur said immediately, raising his hand. “I’ll watch over the Halfling until we drop him off in Hobbiton. Bifur’s fine working on his own, aren’t you, Bif?” He turned to his cousin who nodded and growled in Khuz-dul.

“Very well,” Thorin said. “I ask you all to please refrain from going anywhere near the medical bay.” Several heads nodded eagerly and Thorin waved them all away. “Then we are done here.”

O.o.O

It was late in the evening when Dwalin finally found his older brother on the second level. Several other Dwarves, save for Kili who was piloting and Bifur who was still repairing the engine, had already gone to bed. Dwalin had been rather surprised when he noticed his brother wasn’t here in their shared quarters. Balin was usually the first to bed at the end of the day. But not, apparently, on this particular day.

Balin was standing outside the medical bay, one arm propped against the window with his forehead resting on it. Dwalin approached his brother carefully from behind, stopping at his side and peering into the medical bay. Someone had covered the Halfling with a blanket. The small creature was now asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly. The warm air of the ship had brought to light the black and blue bruises littering the Halfling’s face and arms.

“How could anyone strike such an innocent creature?” Balin finally said, shaking his head. “Halflings are peaceful enough, there is no reason to act out in anger toward them.”

“They were smugglers,” Dwalin said. “They didn’t need a good reason, or any reason at all.”

“But still,” Balin said before sighing. He turned to look at his brother. “Why did you want to murder the poor creature?” he asked his younger brother.

“It was an automatic response,” Dwalin argued. “You would have said the same thing if you’d been in my shoes.”

“And what shoes are those?” Balin asked. “A murderer’s or my younger brother’s?”

“A defender’s,” Dwalin said. “It’s my job to protect everyone on this ship. Bringing the Halfling on board only brings more trouble.”

“And now? Now that you have seen the Halfling and know of their history, would you still say the same thing?”

Dwalin hesitated before nodding slowly. “Aye, I still suggest we space it.” His heart sunk at the sight of Balin shaking his head in disgust. “You don’t understand, brother.”

“You are right about that,” Balin said. “I do not understand. Ever since the battle of Moria you have been different. You attack people left and right for no reason, you yell at the lads for laughing too loud, and now you are suggesting we murder an innocent. What happened to the brother I knew who would have been the first one to defend the Halfling?”

“He died long ago in Azanulbizar.”

“I thought you were better than this, Dwalin. I never would have thought you would be so willing to deal out death to those who do not deserve it.” Dwalin watched his older brother turn away and head down the hall toward the quarters. “Good night, Dwalin.”

“Good night, Balin,” Dwalin said softly. He turned back around to look at the Halfling, watching as it shifted in its sleep. Slowly, as though any noise would wake it up, Dwalin entered the medical bay, moving to stand over the creature. There were marks of finger prints on its upper arms too thin to be a Dwarf’s and the mark of a hand on its face. The Halfling’s eyes flickered under its lids with dreams, completely unaware to the situation it was in.

“Sleep well, little one,” Dwalin said softly, running a hand through the Halfling’s hair. “I hope for your sake and mine we leave you on Hobbiton and never see you again.” Turning on his heel, he left the medical to bay to hunt down Thorin. Maybe the captain would let him sleep in his quarters tonight. Dwalin didn’t want to have to face Balin again.


	4. Consciousness and Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, I got nothing more to say.

**Consciousness and Conversations**

Looking back, Bofur supposed it probably wasn’t a wise idea to call the warden a cheeky devil with an orc for a mother. The venomous look the warden had given him was hilarious, the extra amount of time it had taken for Bofur’s blood sample to get drawn . . . not so much. Bofur had never liked needles, not since that one day when the mines had collapsed and he’d been stuck in the hospital for three weeks.

Fiddling his thumbs, Bofur laid on his jail-cell bed staring at the ceiling. It really was a marvelous piece of work: perfectly designed ceiling tiles that all fit together like pieces of a puzzles. If he wasn’t careful he’d be examining the floor next. The Dwarf rolled over with a sigh and crossed his arms under his chin.

“I hope yer alright, Bilbo,” Bofur muttered to himself. “Wherever ya are.” He looked up in surprise as a voice blared through the intercom.

“Prisoner 1-07, stand with your hands against the wall facing away from the door,” the voice said in a bored yet sophisticated tone. “Do not attempt anything or you will be sedated and locked in more secure containment.”

“Aye, aye,” Bofur grumbled. “It’s not like I’d be able ta escape.” Sliding from his bed, he moved to stand against the far wall, his palms pressed against the cool steel. He heard the cell door open and footsteps cross the floor before someone grabbed his hands and handcuffed them behind his back. The footsteps receded and Bofur waited patiently for his next instructions.

“Please, sit down,” a warm voice said. Bofur turned to see a sophisticated agent in his cell holding a sheaf of papers. The agent motioned to Bofur’s bed and Bofur moved slowly to sit down, keeping his eyes on the Man at all times.

“So, you’re the engineer of _the Arkenstone_?” the Man asked Bofur politely.

“One of them,” Bofur corrected.

“Sorry?”

“I’m one of the engineers,” Bofur repeated. “Me cousin Bifur is the other one. He used ta work in the mines with me, but then he got attacked by an orc.”

“Of course, the mentally handicapped Dwarf,” the agent said, nodding, and Bofur’s heart twinged. He hated it when people called Bifur that. His cousin was still smart just . . . not always there all the time. “And your brother Bombur? What about him?”

“He was a cook in the Blue Mountains,” Bofur said. “That’s how he met his wife. Beautiful dame, she is. You should’ve been there fer their wedding day, I’ve never been so drunk in all me life.”

“Yes, your file does say you’ve had a series of incidents.”

“If you’re talkin’ about the one with the cat, the barmaid, and the terrible tenor singer I was barely involved. All I did was give the Man a little push off the table.” Bofur gave the agent his best grin but the Man didn’t reciprocate. “I never did catch yer name.”

“Smith,” the Man said automatically. “Agent Smith. So, Bofur, what brought you to join Thorin’s crew aboard _the Arkenstone_? You’ve had no previous experiences with engines before, have you?”

“Nope, never touched one before I walked onta that ship,” Bofur said, leaning back against the wall. His arms ached uncomfortably in the new position. “But Bifur, bless me, when Bifur first saw that engine . . . I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited in all me life.”

“And yet Bifur has never had any experience with engines before either.”

“Oh, aye, I think it has somethin’ ta do with that ax in his head. First we thought he just couldn’t speak Westron anymore, then he started gettin’ smart about weird things.”

“What sort of . . . things?”

“Well, I remember this one time, it was only a few months after Bifur’d gotten the ax in his head, me cousin saw one of them weaving looms and just started weaving a new tapestry. The owner of the shop hired him on right away when she saw his masterpiece.”

“You’re saying your cousin taught himself about the engine.”

“Aye,” Bofur said, a twinkle in his eye. “Bifur’s always had a knack with teachin’ himself new things. Though . . . I don’t think Thorin was happy when Bifur started pullin’ apart the engine ta see what did what. Scariest day of me life when the life support suddenly went down.” Agent Smith smiled at that and he moved to stand directly before Bofur. “What’s this all about, anyway?”

“We are trying to learn more about the thirteen of you,” Agent Smith said. “And how you could have possibly kidnapped a Halfling and slipped him under our nose for the past several months.”

“Oh, you mean Bilbo,” Bofur said.

“Bilbo, so the Halfling has a name now?”

“Who doesn’t?” Bofur asked the Man. “Ya’ve got a name and so’ve I. Why wouldn’t Bilbo have a name?”

“Neither Thorin nor Dwalin used the Halfling’s name when I spoke to them. They either referred to him as ‘the Halfling’ or ‘the Hobbit’.”

“They only call Bilbo by his name when we’re alone on the ship. They don’t like others knowin’ his name.”

“Why not?”

Bofur gave him his best ‘are you serious’ look. “We Dwarves are very secret about our true names.”

“And you think Bilbo is a secret name?”

“No, I just think Thorin and Dwalin are bein’ overprotective again. They only stop doin’ that when Bilbo climbs inta the rafters and starts throwin’ things at them.”

“And why would that stop them?”

Bofur’s look only increased. “Have you never had a Hobbit throw knick-knacks at ya before? They’ve got a mean aim.”

“No, I’m sorry to say I have never encountered a Hobbit before this day.”

“Where is Bilbo by the way?” Bofur asked, leaning to peer around the Man. “He’s not with you, I see.” The Man hesitated before answering.

“Bilbo is currently being examined for any psychological damage that may have occurred while he was on your ship,” he finally said. “So far preliminary examinations have shown multiple scarring tissues, all of which has been expertly healed.”

“That’s Oin fer ya,” Bofur said. He leaned back against the wall once more. “He’s our healer.”

“I gathered that from my previous conversations with Thorin and Dwalin.”

“You’ve been talkin’ with them? How are they, still causin’ trouble?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But both have been kind enough to enlighten me on how you found the Halfling.”

“Then ya’ve heard our story. Did they tell you about the time when Bilbo convinced three trolls not ta eat us?” According to the agent’s mask of horror they hadn’t.

“Trolls?” the Man choked, and Bofur sighed to himself.

“Where did they leave off?” he asked.

“Um, well, Thorin had just admitted about finding the Halfling and telling you that you were dropping him off on Hobbiton.”

“Alright,” Bofur said, nodding. He crossed his legs underneath him and settled into his best storytelling voice. “I volunteered ta watch the Halfling until he woke up, it took a lot longer than I thought it would . . .”

O.o.O

He didn’t know whether he was asleep or dead. No sound reached his ears. No light reached his eyes. He didn’t dream. He didn’t think. Everything was black. Black as the everlasting night that lay over him.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t. The light was too bright and the sounds were too loud. He was aware of monsters roaring over him, trying to hold him down. Their sounds were guttural, their claws were harsh. He tried to fight them, screaming for help, but they lashed him down with their tentacles and one of the monsters roared in his face before slapping his mouth. Another stabbed him with a stinger and black crept back into his world, leaving him to watch everything around him in a haze until he succumbed to sleep.

He swam in and out of focus for what felt like years, aware of hands rearranging his limbs and soft voices speaking over him. Something heavy was laid on him. Needles pricked him. Fingers ran through his hair. Bilbo started to wonder when he was going to wake up from this strange nightmare he was having. He just wanted to go home, hear the fire crackling in the fire place and his neighbors calling back and forth.

_Snick_.

Maybe he should have strawberries today.

_Snick_.

Or jam with toast.

_Snick_.

What _was_ that sound? It didn’t sound like anything he had heard before. Or maybe it did . . . Bilbo didn’t know anymore. His mind was too muddled to think properly.

_Snick_.

Bilbo could have sworn there were weights on his eyelids, just opening them was a struggle for him. The first thing he saw was a steel dome hovering over him filled with several clear orbs. It took several seconds for him to realize he was staring at a light fixture. A bubble of laughter burst from his lips and the strange sound to his right stopped. A face he had never seen before appeared in his vision: dark pigtails, a funny curling mustache, a large nose, and a twinkling grin that spoke only of mischief.

Lips moved but no sound reached Bilbo’s ears and he frowned before shaking his head to clear the buzz in his ears. The face above him frowned a hand tickled his ear for a moment. A loud screeching filled Bilbo’s ear and he imitated the sound himself, causing the face above him to jump.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Bilbo heard him saying. “These little buggers can be a wee bit unpredictable.” The hand tickled his ear again and the screeching stopped. It then moved to Bilbo’s ear and suddenly Bilbo could hear clearly again.

“Sorry,” the newcomer said with a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t sure what frequency ya’d hear through the translators so I just left them off. I hope I didn’t hurt ya too badly.”

Bilbo, still slightly delirious, tried to reach up and poke the face’s large nose (could it _really_ be that big?) but found himself incapable of moving. Looking down, he found why. His arms, legs, and waist had been strapped down to the table. Tubes were taped down to his wrist and there was a plastic covering over his right leg. He was suddenly aware of the itching, burning sensation in that particular appendage and he whimpered, struggling weakly against his constraints.

“Easy there, just try and relax,” Big Nose said, laying a hand gently on Bilbo’s arm. “Ya don’t want ta move too much or Oin’ll knock ya out again. He’s already had ya under fer five days. Ya kept stressin’ yerself too much fer yer wee heart ta handle.” Bilbo turned his head to stare at Big Nose to see concern in his eyes. “I’m Bofur.”

“Bo-fur,” Bilbo tried to say but his throat was too dry and he coughed hard.

“Oh, here, let me help ya,” Bofur said. Bilbo felt his upper torso being raise and became aware the head of his bed was lifting. Bofur raised a plastic cup to Bilbo’s lips as he stroked his hair. “Here ya go, don’t drink too fast or Oin’ll have a fit.” Bilbo sipped at the water slowly with Bofur’s help before the cup was taken away. “Better?” Bilbo nodded gratefully. “Alright, well I’m Bofur. What’s yer name?”

“Bilbo Baggins.”

“Bilbo,” Bofur repeated. Something about his new friend bothered Bilbo until a realization hit him.

“You’re a Dwarf,” Bilbo said in awe. He had only seen Dwarves in his books before. Even then there was next to nothing written about the Dwarves, the race was so secretive.

“Aye, that I am,” Bofur said with a cheeky grin. “And yer a Halflin’.”

“B-But h-how do you know Hobbitish?” Bilbo asked the Dwarf.

“I don’t.” The grin was growing on the Dwarf’s face. “Yer speakin’ Khuz-dul.” At Bilbo’s confused expression Bofur tapped Bilbo’s ear gently. “Thorin had me fit ya with translators I invented meself. They . . . sort of rewire yer brain so we can understand each other. Sorry ya have ta wear them. The translators aren’t made fer Hobbitish.”

“Where am I?” Bilbo asked. He turned his head to look around himself.

“Yer in the sick bay,” Bofur told Bilbo. “Of _the Arkenstone_.”

The entire room was white lined with various cupboards, drawers, and counters. Two walls were lined with long windows, the sliding door clear with a red cross emblazoned on it. Beyond the window he could see another Dwarf. This one was slightly shorter with a white beard that flipped at the end. He watched Bilbo with an intense gaze that made the Hobbit uncomfortable. Bofur turned to see what he was looking at and waved to the other Dwarf to come in.

“That’s Balin,” Bofur said. “He’s Thorin’s first mate.” The glass door slid back with a hiss as the Dwarf named Balin stepped into the room. Bilbo could now see he was a much older Dwarf, going by the lines on his forehead and the glasses perched on his nose.

“It is good to see you awake,” Balin told Bilbo pleasantly, patting him on the shoulder. “I thought you would never wake up with the amount of sedative Oin was giving you.”

“Oin?” Bilbo said in confusion. He looked between the Dwarves, terror growing in the pit of his stomach. “How did I get here? Where is Gandalf? A-And Hamfast? A-Arathorn?” The Dwarves looked to each other before Balin finally spoke.

“Laddie, do you remember what happened?” he asked gently. Bilbo racked his brain for anything that could help explain his predicament but came up with nothing. Bofur clapped a hand on his head as he shook it back and forth quickly.

“Ya need ta relax,” Bofur said. “I keep tellin’ ya, Oin’s goin’ ta have a fit.”

“I-I don’t know who Oin is.”

“He is our medic,” Balin said. He removed Bofur’s hand from Bilbo’s head and smoothed back the Halfling’s hair. “And he will have you back under medication if you do not calm yourself down now.” Bilbo tried, he really did, to calm down but it wasn’t long before a tone sounded loudly behind him and both Bofur and Balin jumped back from him.

The medic bay’s door slid back once more and a Dwarf looking stranger than Bofur marched in. He barked too quickly for Bilbo to understand. Bofur looked sheepish while Balin tried to calm the new Dwarf down. Bilbo was aware of the Dwarf approaching him and pinning his wrist down. A needle stung his wrist. He shook his head, mumbling to himself.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Bilbo said even as he felt the black enveloping him again. A gentle hand patted his wrist and reassuring words were whispered in his ears.

The next time Bilbo woke up he came face to face with a star. At least, that’s what he thought it was until a new Dwarf’s face swam into view. This one’s blond hair and beard had been molded into the shape of a star. Heck, even his eyebrows had been braided into the mix.

“Oi, Bofur,” the new Dwarf said. “He’s awake.”

“Get back, Nori,” Bofur said from behind Bilbo. “Yer goin’ ta scare him silly again.”

“What happened?” Bilbo mumbled as the Dwarf named Nori pulled back from him. Bofur appeared in his vision, the sheepish look still on his face.

“We might have stressed ya out too much,” Bofur admitted. “Oin got mad and told us if we did that again then none of us’ll be allowed in here.”

“Balin said he’s sorry,” Nori said. He fell into a chair at Bilbo’s bedside and pulled out a knife, proceeding to clean under his nails. “He was only trying to help.”

“Oin?” Bilbo repeated. “The medic?”

“Aye,” Bofur said. “He was the one who came in here when yer heart rate skyrocketed.” Bilbo sighed through his nose and looked down at himself once more. The plastic tunnel was still over his right leg. The burning sensation had increased while he’d been asleep. Nori caught him looking and nodded to it.

“They’re medical mites,” the star-haired Dwarf explained. “Oin said your leg wasn’t healing properly, something about lousy smugglers and their useless medicine.” He yelped suddenly and glared at Bofur. “Don’t kick me!”

“Ya weren’t supposed ta say that ta him,” Bofur hissed. “Oin’ll kick us out of here.”

“He’s going to learn eventually.”

“But it didn’t have ta be now!”

“Smugglers?” Bilbo repeated. His brow furrowed as a memory began to surface. “There was a loud bang,” he said. Nori and Bofur stopped bickering to turn to him.

“A gunshot?” Nori suggested softly.

“Pain,” Bilbo said, trying to remember through the haze of drugs. “They made me sleep. I didn’t want to sleep.” Nori and Bofur looked to each other before Bofur smoothed Bilbo’s hair back.

“No one’s goin’ ta make ya sleep anymore.”

“Except for Oin. Ow! Stop _kicking_ me!”

Bilbo’s stomach suddenly grumbled and his face flushed. Bofur gave him his signature cheeky grin and reached for something behind Bilbo’s bed.

“We thought ya’d be hungry,” the Dwarf said. “Oin’s been pumpin’ ya full of stuff – (“vitamins and nutrients,” Nori muttered) – But that’s not goin’ ta settle yer stomach.” He placed a plate in Bilbo’s lap, revealing a plate of dried fruit. “Sorry we don’t have anythin’ better.”

“Should we untie his hands?” Nori asked Bofur. “Oin never said anything.”

“I can feed myself,” Bilbo said hopefully. He hated the feeling of his arms trapped at his side again. It made him claustrophobic.

“I don’t know,” Bofur said, chewing his lip. “Thorin’d probably get mad.”

“Forget Thorin,” Nori said. He reached for Bilbo’s wrist and loosened the strap, releasing the Halfling’s arm. “He’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said as Bofur hesitantly released his other arm. He took a piece of fruit and began nibbling on it. “Who’s Thorin?” he asked the Dwarves.

“Our captain,” Bofur said, his jovial attitude returning in a second. “And just about the sternest Dwarf ya’ll ever meet.” Bilbo looked between Nori and Bofur before asking a question that had them shifting uncomfortably.

“How did you find me if I was on a smuggling ship?”

“You were, um,” Bofur began, uncertain how to explain the situation.

“They jumped ship,” Nori said bluntly, yelping as Bofur kicked him. Bilbo couldn’t help but smile slightly at their antics. “ _Stop it!_ ”

“But we found ya,” Bofur said with a glare at Nori. “And that’s what matters. And we’re returnin’ ya ta yer sanctuary in the Shire.” Bilbo’s face fell at that.

“We’re going to the Shire?”

“You are,” Nori said. “We can’t exactly go near the Shire system without being tagged by the Government.” When Bilbo gave him a confused look he frowned. “You don’t about the Government?”

“I know about the Thain,” Bilbo said. “And the Master of Buckland.”

“Geez, you Halflings sure live sheltered lives,” Nori said. He caught Bofur’s leg this time in the other Dwarf’s attempt to kick him. “I’m just _saying_.”

“Don’t ya Halflings know anything about the outside world?”

“Hobbits.”

“Sorry?”

“We prefer to be called Hobbits,” Bilbo explained. He flushed at Nori and Bofur’s puzzled expressions. “It’s, um, from an old word. And no, we don’t really hear about the Big People except from Gandalf. He only comes to show off his fireworks for special events. Sometimes the Dunedain will visit us too.”

“Funny,” Nori commented drily. “How the Men make a sanctuary for the Halflings and then shelter them from the rest of the galaxy.” This time Bofur smacked him upside the head. “Ouch! Would you stop it?”

“Not until ya stop with yer sass.”

Bilbo looked between the two Dwarves before speaking. “Are all of Dwarves like this?”

“If you’re talking about the race, no,” Nori said, rubbing his head. “The Dwarves on our ship, yes.”

“How does anything get done?” Bilbo asked, and Bofur and Nori roared with laughter at that.

“Ya sound like Dis,” Bofur chuckled. “She’s always sayin’ the only thin’ our crew gets done is runnin’ a ship. The rest of the time we’re makin’ fools of ourselves.”

A tapping on the glass made Bilbo jump and he leaned over to see the wildest looking Dwarf he had ever seen. His hair was black peppered with white and his eyes had a slightly crazed look to them. It was the ax, though, stuck in the Dwarf’s forehead that caught Bilbo’s attention. He couldn’t help but stare at this new Dwarf.

“Ah, Bifur,” Bofur said to Bilbo. “Me cousin.” Bifur the Dwarf knocked at the glass again and crooked a finger at Bofur. “I guess he needs me ta help him with the engine.”

“Aye, I better find Dori before he starts hunting for me,” Nori said with a sigh.

“It’s not even that big of a ship,” Bofur said. He patted Bilbo on the head. “Don’t worry, we’ll send someone down ta keep ya company while we’re away.”

He and Nori left Bilbo alone in the medic bay. Bilbo’s heart ached at the sight of Bofur greeting his cousin enthusiastically. He missed the days when the other Hobbits used to greet him like that. Now they just called him Mad Baggins and avoided him. Picking at the fruit on his plate, Bilbo suddenly found he wasn’t that hungry anymore.

O.o.O

Balin looked up from his book as Nori fell into the chair across from him. The star-haired Dwarf propped his heels up on the table and leaned back on the chair’s back legs. Dwalin glared at him from where he was cleaning Keeper.

“Where have you been?” Dwalin growled at the thief.

“With Bilbo,” Nori said. Dwalin’s glare only increased and he clarified. “The Hobbit, he said they don’t like being called Halflings.”

“Did it go better this time?” Balin asked Nori who nodded happily before rocking back and forth dangerously.

“Bofur left the drip alone like Oin told him to and Bilbo didn’t overreact about anything.”

“I still think it was mad to bring him aboard,” Dwalin said. He didn’t miss how Balin completely ignored him. His elder brother had been treating him similarly for the past five days.

“I was sorry to have caused such a reaction from him,” Balin said sadly. He carefully marked his place in the book and set it down on the table.

“The smugglers shot him,” Nori said. Dwalin stopped cleaning his ax and stared at him with wide eyes.

“ _What_?” the tall Dwarf asked in disbelief.

“He saw those medic mites Oin’s using on him and remembered a gunshot. The smugglers must have shot him sometime when they were trying to catch him.” The front legs of his chair hit the floor when Dwalin suddenly stood from his seat and left for the sleeping quarters.

“I’ll be in my bunk,” the warrior grumbled. Balin watched him go before shaking his head.

“What’s his problem?” Nori asked Balin.

“I think he is confused,” Balin said. “Ever since Bilbo awoke my brother has appeared to be torn about his previous statement.”

“The one where he wanted to space Bilbo.”

“Aye, that is the one.”

“We probably wouldn’t be in this situation if we had done it,” Nori mused. Balin gave him a look and he hastily added, “Not that I would have wanted to do it anyway.”

“Is Bofur still with Bilbo?” Balin asked the thief.

“Nah, Bifur needed his help with the engine so I sent Dori down to keep Bilbo company.”

“That is good. Perhaps Dori will be able to learn a bit more about Bilbo before we return him to Hobbiton.”

“Uh huh, right.”

“What is it?”

Nori leaned his chair back again. “When we mentioned we’re returning him to the sanctuary Bilbo got this pained expression like he didn’t want to go back.” Balin frowned thoughtfully at the bit of news. “Besides that, the Government is sheltering the Hobbits. Bilbo doesn’t know anything about the outside world.”

“That is rather odd,” Balin said. He scratched his beard, thinking. “Why would the Government feel the need to hide such things from the Hobbits?”

“No idea,” Nori said before yawning. Standing, he stretched his arms until his back cracked. “It won’t be our problem anymore when Bilbo goes back to the sanctuary. I’m going to take a nap.” Balin watched the younger Dwarf leave before turning to the other side of the room.

“You heard all of that?” Balin asked Thorin who stepped around the door. His friend and captain nodded slowly. “That does not sound like good news to me.” Thorin’s jaw clenched as he spat out the next words.

“It is not our problem. It never was and never will be.” He stormed past the dining table and up the stairs, undoubtedly to see what his nephews were up to.

Balin sighed and steepled his fingers, pressing his forehead against them.

“Mahal help us all.”


	5. Introductions and Insecurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure there's a saying out there that goes "idle hands are the Devil's tool" . . . or is that from a song?

**Introductions and Insecurities**

“I look ridiculous.”

“Nonsense, you look fine,” Nori assured Bilbo before elbowing Bofur hard in the ribs.

“Ow,” Bofur grunted, glaring at his friend. “Aye, ya look great, Bilbo. Just stop fiddlin’ around with the collar.”

“But Ori is larger than I am,” Bilbo said as he tugged at the collar of his borrowed shirt. “I look like a fauntling trying to play dress up in his father’s clothes.”

“Ori will be flattered,” Nori snickered. It was Bofur’s turn to elbow his friend, enjoying the grunt of pain. He nodded to Bilbo whose face had fallen. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t know,” Bilbo said softly. “I guess I just can’t believe it’s almost over. The one time I actually leave the Shire and I’m kidnapped by smugglers.”

“Hey, ya don’t actually know that,” Bofur said soothingly. “It’s like ya said, ya don’t have any memory past Gandalf tellin’ ya ‘good mornin’’.” His face fell when Bilbo didn’t immediately cheer up.

“Hey, look at the bright side of things,” Nori offered. “Soon you’ll be back home with your friends and family.”

Bilbo snorted at that. “What friends?” he muttered under his breath. Bofur and Nori looked to each other as Bilbo slipped into a stream of what could only be described as furious gibberish.

“Hobbitish?” Nori suggested to his friend softly.

“We need ta get his mind off this,” Bofur said. “Before Oin gets mad again.” The two Dwarves thought through their options quickly before Nori brightened with an idea.

“I know!” the star-haired Dwarf said. He hooked his elbow through Bilbo’s, pulling his little friend close. “We’ll take you for a tour of the ship. Oin said your leg’s doing fine now, so it can’t be a bad idea.”

“Aye, that sounds good,” Bofur agreed, heartily clapping Bilbo on the shoulder. “Ya can meet some of the other crew while we’re at it.”

“I-I don’t know,” Bilbo began to say. Any argument he was going to say was cut off when Nori and Bofur pulled him from the medical bay.

“Alright, so ya already know the sick bay inside and out,” Bofur said, gesturing to the room behind them. “It’s on the far end of the ship under the engine and above the cargo bay, second floor. Then ya just hop and skip up these few stairs.” Bofur demonstrated enthusiastically, leaping up the four short stairs. “And ya get ta the dining area.” Nori pushed Bilbo after Bofur and followed them both through the doorway.

“Most of the big meetings Thorin calls happen in here,” Nori told Bilbo. “Come to think of it, everything big happens in here: dinner, games, meetings . . .” He trailed off thoughtfully.

“Anyway, ya already know my brother Bombur,” Bofur said, waving to the rotund Dwarf in the kitchen.

“Hello, Mr. Bilbo,” Bombur said to the Hobbit enthusiastically.

“H-Hello,” Bilbo said, wishing more than ever he could hide behind Nori or Bofur. Neither Dwarf would let him as they held him between each other.

“Alright, that’s enough of that eye candy,” Nori said before dragging Bilbo further down the hall. “And on the other side of the ship are the sleeping quarters for most of the crew.”

“What do you mean ‘most of the crew’?” Bilbo asked nervously.

“Kili, Fili, Bofur, and Bifur have to sleep up on the first floor,” Nori explained. “That way they can get to the engine and the cockpit quickly.”

“Oh, aye, we can’t let those nasty orcs catch us by surprise.”

“ _Orcs_?”

Nori ignored Bilbo’s exclamation in favor of leading him down another small set of stairs and into a small hallway. Six doors lined the hall, three on either side. Each door was emblazoned with words carved carefully in Khuz-dul. Some doors had two or three names while others had only one.

“I share a room with Dori and Ori,” Nori told Bilbo, pausing by a door with three names on it. “My older and younger brothers.” He wrenched the door open to reveal a Dwarf with intricate silver braids.

“Oi!” the Dwarf yelled in surprise when he saw the three of them. “How many times have I told you to knock, Nori?”

“That’s Dori,” Bofur whispered in Bilbo’s ear. “He’s a mother hen if ya let him be around ya fer too long.”

“We’re showing Bilbo around the ship,” Nori told Dori in a bored tone. “I thought we’d show him a few rooms down here before heading up to the cockpit and the engine.”

“Well, alright,” Dori said carefully, eyeing Nori suspiciously. “But don’t be nicking anything this time.”

“They’d all find out eventually,” Nori said before he shut the door. He turned to Bilbo and shuddered. “Sometimes my brother annoys me so much I just want to . . . urgh.” He stormed away.

“Does Nori really nick things?” Bilbo asked Bofur cautiously.

“Oh, aye,” Bofur said. “When he gets especially bored he sees how long it takes fer the whole crew ta notice their clothes are goin’ missin’.”

“What’s the record?”

“Two and a half weeks,” Bofur said, causing Bilbo to choke. “We all just kind of blamed it on our lack of washin’ our clothes very often.”

“I can still hear you two talking,” Nori called back to them. He was standing by another door waiting for them. As they approached he pulled the door open without bothering to knock as Dori had requested. “And here’s Oin and Gloin.”

“Oi!” Gloin shouted furiously. He calmed down, though, when he saw Bilbo was with the two misfits. “It’s just you three.”

“We’re showin’ Bilbo around,” Bofur said cheerfully, clapping Bilbo on the shoulder.

“Gloin’s in charge of the money with the ship and the crew,” Nori told Bilbo. “He makes sure we don’t spend it all on ale and tobacco.”

“And Oin’s our medic,” Bofur added. He motioned to the older Dwarf’s turned back. “He’s gone a bit deaf in his old age so he wears hearin’ aids. But sometimes he likes ta turn them off when we’re all bein’ too loud.”

“It becomes a real problem when need him,” Gloin muttered. “Why don’t you three find someone else to play with? I’m busy trying to add up last month’s bills.”

“Great idea, Gloin,” Nori said before shutting the door quickly. “Never,” he said seriously to Bilbo. “Let Gloin start talking about money. He’ll talk your ear off. Onward and forward!”

The trio returned to the dining area where they took a flight of stairs up to the third level, emerging in the middle of a long hall. At one end Bilbo could see the makings of an engine and on the other the night sky.

“Alright, so this is my room,” Bofur patted a steel trap door in the wall. “Bifur sleeps in the room next ta me, and Fili and Kili sleep in those two rooms.” He motioned to the last two doors down the hall.

“How do you open the door?” Bilbo asked curiously. “It looks embedded into the wall.”

“Easy,” Bofur said. “Ya just pull the door at one end and push with yer foot at the other.” He demonstrated by jerking at a handle at the top of the door and kicking at the base. The door slid open with hardly a squeak, revealing a ladder underneath. “The doors are on hinges.”

“Boring,” Nori said with a yawn. He dragged Bilbo toward the engine room. “I bet you can already guess what’s in here.”

“The heater?” Bilbo joked and Nori chuckled, ruffling his hair.

“Good one.”

“Bifur should be in here somewhere,” Bofur commented as he wandered in behind Nori and Bilbo. He looked around the room curiously. “I wonder where he’s gotten off ta.”

Bilbo, who had been inspecting the whirling engine with a keen interested, shrieked in surprise when someone landed behind him. He whirled about to find himself face to face with the most ferocious Dwarf he had yet to meet. Bifur the Dwarf with an ax in his head. Bifur looked Bilbo up and down before saying something to Bofur in a guttural language.

“Aye, that’s the Hobbit,” Bofur said. “Bilbo, meet Bifur. I know ya saw him yesterday, but this time ya can really meet him.”

“Th-There’s an ax in his head,” Bilbo squeaked out before he could stop himself. Bifur leaned forward so their noses were almost touching and motioned to the ax before saying something.

“Bif, I don’t think Bilbo wants ta touch the ax,” Bofur said slowly. “He almost passed out at the sight of his own blood.”

“He’ll be fine,” Nori admonished. “It’s just an ax.”

“No, I-I think I’d rather not touch the ax, thank you,” Bilbo said. But before anyone could stop him, Bifur grabbed Bilbo’s right hand and laid it on the ax in his head. Bilbo froze, his eyes wide. The Dwarf and Hobbit stayed like for a full minute before Bifur nodded to himself and stepped back, releasing Bilbo. He turned around and vanished behind the engine.

“D-Did I just touch an ax embedded in a Dwarf’s head?” Bilbo asked in disbelief. He jumped when Nori howled with laughter.

“You should have seen your face!” Nori laughed, clutching his middle. “You looked ready to faint on the spo- ow!”

“Stop teasin’ him,” Bofur chided his friend before he turned back to Bilbo. “Sorry about Bifur, Bilbo, his mind’s not always all there.”

“Because of the ax?” Bilbo asked.

“Because of the ax,” Bofur agreed. He then proceeded to stomp on Nori’s foot when the thieving Dwarf fell over laughing again.

“Ouch!”

A terrible screeching sound filled the engine room and the two Dwarves and Hobbit jumped in surprise. Bifur could be heard cursing on the other side.

“What was that?” Bilbo asked Bofur who shrugged.

“I have no idea. She’s been making that sound fer a while now. It just sort of pops up in the middle of the night then fades away.”

“Horrible alarm clock,” Nori muttered, rubbing his foot.

Bilbo approached the engine, watching it whirl around and around in its cradle. Bilbo’s eyes followed the pieces keenly until he located the part making the sound. His hand darting forward, he wrapped his fingers around the part and jerked it free. The part came out easily enough and the screeching sound stopped abruptly. Bifur’s head popped up like a gopher’s. He looked about himself in confusion before disappearing behind the engine again.

“What did ya just do?” Bofur asked Bilbo.

“Did you break the engine?” Nori asked in awe before a grin cracked across his face. “You broke the engine!” he guffawed.

“On the contrary,” Bilbo said, tossing the piece into the air and catching it again. “I fixed the engine. This piece is useless.”

“It is?” Bofur asked. He caught the metal piece when Bilbo tossed it to him.

“If that piece broke off in the middle of the night the life support’s oxygen tank would cause a backup that would eventually asphyxiate you all in your sleep.” That caused Nori to stop laughing at once.

“But what does the piece do?” Bofur asked, looking through the round piece. “Don’t we need this?”

“It doesn’t even go there,” Bilbo said with a sigh.

“Bif, are ya stickin’ pieces where they don’t belon’ again?” Bofur shouted over the engine. His replied angrily and the Dwarf’s face turned beet red. “I didn’t do it! I’ve never seen this part before in my life!”

“Those two will be at it for the next three hours,” Nori told Bilbo with a sigh. Grabbing Bilbo’s arm, he dragged the Hobbit down the hall. “It’s best if we just leave them to it.”

“They’re not going to hurt each other though, right?” Bilbo asked.

“Nah, they’ll be fine.” Bilbo leapt in surprise as metal struck metal.

“Bif! Don’t throw things at me!”

“Or not.”

“What did you break this time, Nori?” a blond Dwarf asked from inside the cockpit. Bilbo and Nori entered the room to find him reclining in a chair, his feet propped up on a control panel.

“This time it wasn’t me,” Nori said truthfully. “Bilbo did it. Bilbo, this is Fili. He’s Thorin’s nephew and one of the pilots of the ship.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a pilot?” Bilbo asked Fili curiously.

“Hey,” Fili said, pointing a finger at Bilbo. “I am eighty-two years old. That’s plenty old enough to flying a ship. Besides, Kili’s younger.”

“Only by five years.” A dark head popped up from a lower deck. “I’m Kili, seventy-seven years old.”

“Bilbo Baggins at your service,” Bilbo said. Fili and Kili looked to each other before Fili stood from his chair and Kili leapt up the stairs. They stood side by side, their shoulders almost touching.

“Oh, for Mahal’s sake! Do you have to do this every time?” Nori demanded from the brothers who ignored him.

“Fili,” Fili said with a very serious expression.

“And Kili,” Kili added.

“At your service,” they said together, giving Bilbo deep bows.

“You two are ridiculous,” Nori muttered under his breath.

“Not as ridiculous as you look after three days without bathing,” Kili joked. His eyes widened when Nori darted forward and pushed him backward down the steps. Bilbo’s hands flew to his mouth in horror.

“Nori!”

“Relax,” Nori told Bilbo. “Dwarves have thick skulls. So when stuff like this happens - ,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder just as Bofur’s voice carried down the hall.

“Ouch! Stop throwin’ the wrenches at me, Bifur!”

“We don’t get too badly injured,” Nori finished.

“It’s still not nice,” Kili muttered from the lower deck. Fili fell back into his seat, his feet immediately returning to the control panel. His eyes followed Bilbo as the Hobbit wandered forward to stare out the windshield.

“It’s so beautiful,” Bilbo breathed. “All those stars just sitting there in the sky.”

“They’re nice,” Fili agreed. “But you can pretty sick of them when you stare at them for too long.”

“How far are we from the Shire?” Bilbo asked Fili softly. Fili shrugged nonchalantly before answering.

“Two, three days. It all depends on whether or not Bofur and Bifur keep the engine running well enough.”

Bilbo continued to stare out the sky until he was aware of Nori pulling on his arm. Nori led him back down the hall where they descended the stairs (leaving Bofur to fend off Bifur’s wrath), and down another set where they came out on a gangway.

“And this is the cargo bay on the lower level,” Nori told Bilbo. The metal gangway they stood on, Bilbo could see, ran around the entire perimeter of the cargo bay, stopping at the other end of the ship. A staircase directly before them and two more at the other ends of the gangway led down to the bottom level of the cargo bay.

“There are four alternate pods on this ship,” Nori said, pointing at four metal doors. “One of them isn’t functioning right now, we can’t figure out why. Ori uses another for reading and drawing maps. He’s our navigator on the ship. And the other two are just sitting around waiting to be used.” Bilbo looked up at the ceiling to see metal rafters crisscrossing across the large expanse, making an almost geometrical net design.

The sound of metal on metal caught Bilbo’s attention and he leaned over the edge of the gangway to see two Dwarves sparring below. One carried a single sword in his hands, swinging it as hard as he could at his companion who dodged every blow. The other Dwarf was rather heavily tattooed, in Bilbo’s opinion, and carried two axes in his hands.

“That’s Thorin and Dwalin,” Nori said. “Thorin’s captain of the ship.”

“What about Dwalin?” Bilbo asked curiously. He watched as the two Dwarves locked weapons and wrestled back and forth.

“He’s a guard . . . sort. He keeps trouble away from the ship and makes sure Fili and Kili don’t get into trouble.”

“And you,” Bilbo said, turning to look at Nori. Nori grinned cheekily at him.

“And me, on occasion. I don’t think he’s forgiven me for the Blue Mountains yet.”

Bilbo turned back to the sparring session to see it had stopped. Dwalin was talking to someone standing under the gangway while Thorin had turned around, his gaze focused upward. At Bilbo. The Hobbit swallowed hard. He had never had someone glare at him with so much hate before. Not even Lobelia Bracegirdle did, and she detested him!

“I-I want to go back,” Bilbo said, backing away from the gangway. “T-To the medical bay.”

“But you just got out,” Nori protested. “Don’t you want to look around a bit more?”

“N-No, thank you, I’m fine. I-I had a good time.” And with that Bilbo turned and fled back up the stairs. Nori turned around to glare down at Thorin.

“Nice going, Thorin,” he shouted. “We had just gotten him out of the medical bay.”

“Do not let him get too comfortable, Nori,” Thorin warned. “The Halfling is not here to stay.”

“Says who?” Nori countered.

“I do,” Thorin snapped back. “Now go find Ori and see if he cannot find us a faster route to the Shire system.” Nori snorted in disgust before disappearing back up the stairs.

O.o.O

“Thorin seems to have made his position very clear to Bilbo,” Agent Smith commented to Bofur.

“Aye, that he did,” Bofur agreed. “Bilbo refused ta leave the medical bay after that, even fer meals.”

“It’s strange, though,” the Man said, scratching his chin. “The way Thorin speaks about Bilbo he seems to hold the Halfling in great respect.”

“That’s a story fer someone else ta tell ya,” Bofur said before he yawned. “Bifur’s been keepin’ me with his yowlin’ at night.”

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Agent Smith said. “Thank you for your time.” He moved to leave when Bofur’s words caused him to pause.

“Ya really think yer doin’ what’s best fer Bilbo,” the Dwarf said, his eyes closed. “But ya should really ask him yerself.”

Agent Smith watched Bofur for a full minute. When the Dwarf didn’t elaborate any further he left, shutting the cell door behind him.


	6. Histories and Healing

**Histories and Healing**

If the crew of _the Arkenstone_ had been asked to describe Dori using only word they would have had the same answer: worrier. Dori was notorious on the ship for constantly worrying about his younger brothers and even, on occasion, some of the other Dwarves. They used to tease the stressed Dwarf, telling him he would wear a hole through the floor of the ship if he wasn’t careful. Their words had done nothing to stop his blood pressure from skyrocketing, though, as he watched Nori leave time and time again for black-market deals and the like.

And now, in prison, Dori was more worried about Bilbo than himself. What would the Government do with the poor Hobbit? Would they try to reinstate him back into Hobbiton? Would they lock him away in a small room with no hope of escape? Thoughts whirled through Dori’s head as he paced around his cell, tugging at the end of his bear. Nori had always told him he would pull his beard out if he wasn’t careful.

“Prisoner 1-10,” a voice squawked over the intercom, causing Dori to jump in surprise. “Stand with your hand against the wall. Any wrong moves will end in severe repercussions.”

“How else would it end?” Dori muttered under his breath.

Standing from the bed, Dori moved to stand against the cold steel wall. The door opened behind him and footsteps echoed off the floor. The Dwarf’s hands were dragged back one by one and handcuffed together before the footsteps receded and the door shut. Dori turned on the spot to see an exhausted looking agent. The Man’s shoulders slumped, his jacket had been unbuttoned and his tie removed. He held a sheaf of papers in one hand a stool in the other.

“You look terrible,” Dori commented. The Man sighed and set the stool on the floor before settling himself down.

“You Dwarves caused quite the ruckus after you regained Erebor,” he said before motioning to Dori’s bed. “Please, take a seat. This may take a while.” Dori made his way back to his bed and sat down, watching the Man with a careful eye.

“Agent Smith,” the Man said casually. He shuffled the papers in his hand before consulting them. “Your records state you were one of the few Dwarves to take part in the Reintroduction experiment of the Hobbits.”

“That is correct,” Dori said. “I lived on Bree in a Hobbit reservation among the Hobbits there.”

“For how long?” Agent Smith asked.

“Three and a half years?” Dori said then shook his head. “No four and a half years. The years blend together when you leave the mainstream society.”

“Now, your records are slightly unclear as to how you came to join this experiment,” Agent Smith said. “Gandalf refused to release any information about the participants in the Reintroduction experiment. He stated your privacy during the project had been promised and would remain that way until further notice.”

Dori hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “My brothers and I have different fathers,” he said. “Our mother left after Ori four years after Ori was born and I was left to raise him. Nori left at the first chance he could for reasons he would not say.”

“Were you living in the Blue Mountains at the time?” Agent Smith asked the Dwarf who nodded.

“I was very young at the time of the sacking Erebor,” Dori said. “I struggled to raise Ori in the beginning. My only job was a tea shop and that was not earning us enough to continue living in the house. Nori would stop by to visit every once in a while, but I always refused whatever money he had to offer. I did not want stolen money paying for Ori and me.”

“Is that when Gandalf approached you?”

“Yes,” Dori said softly, looking down at the floor. “I had just been fired from the tea shop when Gandalf approached me with an offer. His organization would pay for my schooling if I agreed to partake in their experiment on the Hobbit Reservation.”

“Did you agree immediately?”

“No, I could not leave Ori to fend for himself. So I told Gandalf no and returned home to find Nori was visiting. When Nori heard about the offer he told me to go, he would watch over Ori.”

“And you left to live on a Hobbit reservation for four and a half years,” Agent Smith finished. He leaned back on his stool, clutching the papers in one hand.

“It was supposed to be for five,” Dori admitted. “But I received word halfway through the fourth year that Ori had fallen ill. Gandalf allowed me to leave and promised I would still receive my education.”

“Where did you study to become a professor in the Blue Mountains?”

“I studied in Rivendell for seven years.” Dori shifted uncomfortably on his bed. “What does this have to do with Bilbo?”

“Everything,” Agent Smith said before changing the subject. “What made you join Thorin’s crew aboard _the Arkentstone_?”

“Thorin had heard about Ori’s expertise with maps,” Dori told the human agent. “And he was looking for a navigator.”

“So he asked Ori to join his crew.”

“Yes, he had already asked Nori to join three months prior so of course Ori was keen to join. He was only sixty-seven at the time so I felt it was my duty as an older brother to make sure he did not get himself into any trouble.”

“Was Thorin willing to let you join his crew?” Agent Smith asked. “A professor from the Blue Mountains Academy hardly seems like a fitting position for a ship.”

Dori scowled at him. “It may have taken a bit of convincing from Nori, but Thorin allowed me to join in the end,” he said. “At first I taught some of the younger Dwarves history and culture. Later Thorin asked me to act as an ambassador for the ship.”

“Due to your study of other cultures?”

“Precisely,” Dori agreed. “Nori was the ambassador for the black-market and I was the ambassador for the more civilized societies. Now, really, what has any of this to do with Bilbo Baggins?”

“Mr. Dori, due to your involvement with Hobbits you are under heavy speculation by the Government,” Agent Smith said. “All the facts are currently pointing at you.”

Dori swallowed hard. “Am I the first Dwarf you have talked to?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Not at all,” Agent Smith said. “I have spoken with Thorin, Dwalin, and Bofur. Together they have managed to weave together a story, each one stopping at a certain point for another to pick up.”

“Just like an old Dwarf tale,” Dori said. “Where did Bofur leave off, then?”

“He and your younger brother had shown Bilbo around the ship,” the Man said. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his chin in a hand.

“Well, after watching Bilbo interact with Nori and Bofur for a day or two I began to have my suspicions about the Hobbit. Thorin . . . did not react well when I approached him about the matter, though . . .”

O.o.O

Dori found Thorin in the eating area bent over a map laid out on the table. The neat scrawl in the corners could only have been Ori’s, Dori having meticulously taught his brother good penmanship. The captain of the ship spared Dori a glance before returning to his map. Dori paused before the table, waiting patiently until Thorin looked back up at him.

“What is it?” Thorin asked gruffly. Dori scowled and crossed his arms. “Has Nori done something again?”

“Besides spending every minute of his time with Bilbo, no,” Dori said. Uncrossing his arms, he sighed. “Thorin, I wanted to speak to you about the Hobbit.”

“What about it?” Thorin asked. He bent over his map once more, though the stiffness in his shoulders suggested he was listening.

“You know of my involvement with the Hobbit reservation on Bree,” Dori said uncertainly. He wasn’t sure how well Thorin was going to take this conversation.

“Aye, I remember well,” Thorin said. “You spent nearly five years there if I recall.”

“Your memory is better than others,” Dori muttered. “Nori swore he had forgotten I even existed when I returned.”

“Where is this going, Dori?” Thorin asked with a sigh. “I have things to get done.”

“I wanted to talk about the prospect of Bilbo returning to Hobbiton,” Dori said. Thorin turned his gaze back to him at that. “After seeing firsthand how Hobbits treat one another, I am afraid Bilbo will not be accepted back into the Hobbits’ community. They will ostracize him from his town.”

“That is not our problem,” Thorin said. He straightened up, crossing his arms. “Our only problem is to return Bilbo to Gandalf without getting in trouble with the Government.”

“You do not understand, Thorin,” Dori argued. “Hobbits are a very peaceful people who want nothing to do with the strangeness of the outside world. From what I gather Bilbo is already considered strange among his people. If he returns to Hobbiton it will not be to a welcoming committee.”

“Again, that is not our problem,” Thorin said. He returned to looking at his map, scowling when Dori slapped a hand over the moon of Erebor. “Dori, the Halfling is not one of us and it never will. Can you see a Halfling living on board with us? We would have to skirt every Government ship we crossed, avoid every moon and planet that could pose a danger to him.”

“We could head for Rivendell,” Dori suggested. “Master Elrond would be more than happy to take Bilbo in.”

“And do what?” Thorin said. “Return him to the Shire anyway? Whatever choice we make will end badly for the Halfling. It would be better to spare the Elf the trouble and do it ourselves.”

“You will not be moved, will you?” Dori asked Thorin.

“No, as I told you I have already made up my mind,” Thorin said. “The Halfling should have never left its home.”

“Very well,” Dori said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I have argued my case. I hope for your sake Mahal does not hold this against you.” Turning on his heel, he marched from the eating area in search of Nori or Ori. Thorin watched him with a dark look before he returned to his map, his eyes straying back to the moon of Erebor and the Lonely Mountain.

O.o.O

Balin paused outside the medical bay to watch Bilbo. The Hobbit was seated in a chair, a book in his hands he had borrowed from Ori. Balin had gone in search of Bilbo after Bofur had mentioned the Hobbit didn’t want to do anything with him or Nori.

 _“He just sits down in the medical bay lookin’ like a kicked puppy,”_ Bofur had said. _“Do ya think ya could talk ta him fer us? Find out what’s wron’?”_

Balin steeled himself for an emotional meeting before he entered the medical bay, the door sliding open with a hiss. Bilbo looked up at his arrival then back down at the book. Balin allowed the Hobbit a moment to himself as he pretended to look around the medical bay. The medicinal bottles Oin kept neatly lined up on the shelves had been reordered according to what Dwarvish ruins closely matched what.

 “You have put all the medicines beginning with ‘l’ between ‘r’ and ‘s’,” Balin commented over his shoulder. Bilbo looked up at him once more, a small smile gracing his lips. “What is the matter, laddie?” Balin finally asked the Hobbit. “Bofur and Nori are worried about you.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Bilbo said, turning a page in his book. “It’s actually rather ridiculous.”

“Laddie, I helped to raise my younger brother,” Balin said as he planted his hands on his hips. “Nothing is ridiculous when you are young.” Bilbo looked up from his book again for a full minute before he sighed, letting it fall shut.

“It’s just . . .” Bilbo paused, trying to think of how to word his problems. “I don’t think Thorin likes me very much.”

“Thorin does not like anyone very much,” Balin said. When that didn’t crack a smile from Bilbo he pulled a chair up beside the Hobbit and sat down. “Thorin has a more difficult history than most.”

“It can’t be much different than mine,” Bilbo said. The look Balin gave him suggested otherwise.

“Thorin is a king in exile,” Balin explained. He held up a hand when Bilbo opened his mouth to comment. “Allow me to finish. His father was Thrain and his grandfather was Thror. At the time Thror was king under the mountain and I was one of his advisors. We Dwarves were fighting in a war against the Dragons. You see, there is nothing more in this universe we Dwarves love more than gold and precious jewels. We would mine our treasures and the Dragons would attack our mountains. The last time this happened was with Smaug.”

“Smaug,” Bilbo repeated in a whisper.

“Aye, he was a fire drake from the north,” Balin said. “Unlike many other races, such as Men and Elves, the Dragons are from our planets and moons. Smaug attacked one hundred and seventy-one years ago. He came early one day, attacking the colony Men called Dale near the Lonely Mountain.”

“Then he attacked the mountain?” Bilbo asked Balin. His face had gone pale white at the idea of a dragon attacking a helpless town.

“Aye, that he did,” Balin agreed sadly. “Thror’s greed had grown far too fierce ever since he had found the Arkenstone. Yes, the ship was named after the King’s Jewel,” he said at Bilbo’s look of realization. “Thror had destroyed our relations with the Elves as we flourished. But with the coming of Smaug . . . Not many Dwarves survived the siege. Those who did were forced to find new homes in the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills. The Elves refused to help us in our greatest time of need.”

“There were Elves nearby?” Bilbo asked.

“The Elves have no system of their own,” Balin said. He tugged gently at his beard. “They came from far away long before the Men did, settling on abandoned moons and planets. Thranduil had made his home on the neighboring moon and called it the Greenwood.”

“And he just abandoned you all?”

“Well, Thror did refuse to return his jewels to him,” Balin admitted. “After the siege of Smaug we Dwarves took up arms against the Orcs. Perhaps our most famous battle was the battle of Azanulbizar on Moria. We attempted to take back the mines but it was in vain. The Orcs outnumbered us by far too many.”

“Was Thorin in that battle too?” Bilbo asked, shifting in his seat.

“Aye. He, Dwalin, and I partook in that fearsome battle. Azog the Defiler, the most fearsome of all Orcs beheaded Thror during the battle. It was at that time Thorin took up an oaken branch and used it as a shield to defend himself. He defeated Azog in battle and rallied our forces, driving the Orcs back. We won the battle but we lost the mines.”

“And ever since then?” Bilbo’s question made Balin look up at him. “Where has Thorin been living since then?”

“We have been living on the Blue Mountains,” Balin said. “A moon on the edge of the Khazad system where we are from. He worked as a smith when he could while I worked as an educator to young children.”

“Why did he buy this ship if he had work?”

“I never did learn,” Balin said, looking about himself at the medical bay. “I think the idea of remaining in one place too long bothered him and he bought this ship second hand. It was part of the King’s Jewel line of Dwarf carriers. I always thought it was a coincidence how he chose this ship and her name.”

“How long have you all been living on this ship?” Bilbo asked. He crossed his legs under himself. “It can’t have been too long.”

“Five years, I think,” Balin said. “Thorin approached Dwalin and I and asked if we would join his crew. Kili and Fili were already on the crew as pilots, being taught by Thorin. Then came Bofur, Bifur and Bombur; then Oin and Gloin; and finally Dori, Nori, and Ori.”

“It’s quite a crew you have here,” Bilbo said dreamily. “You’re almost like family.”

“You could say that,” Balin agreed before nudging Bilbo. “But enough about us. What about you? Bofur and Nori told me you do not have any siblings. But sure you must have someone back you care about?”

“Oh, no one really,” Bilbo sighed, rubbing an ear. “Just a few younger cousins and such. The others have always seen me as a little strange for not taking a wife at fifty years old.”

“That is quite young in Dwarf years,” Balin commented. “At what year do you come of age?” he asked.

“Thirty-three,” Bilbo said solemnly. “I don’t know why, but I never chose to settle down. I still find myself reading books filled with adventures and looking over maps of the Shire system.”

Balin watched his little friend sadly before speaking. “I wish I could help,” he finally said. “I really do, but Thorin has made up his mind. We are returning you to your home in the Shire system.”

“And then what?” Bilbo asked. “No one’s exactly told me just what it is you do.” He watched the mischievous smile grow on Balin’s lips.

“You did not hear it from me, laddie,” the old Dwarf said softly, leaning forward. “But we deal in the black-market, carrying items back and forth for customers. We try to avoid the darker side of the market, contraband and the likes. Sometimes it cannot be avoided, though, not if we want to stay on someone’s good side.”

“I see,” Bilbo said slowly. “Thank you . . . for telling me about Thorin. I’m glad someone on board this ship beside Bofur and Nori like me.”

“Oh, I think you will find more than just the three of us like you, laddie,” Balin said wisely. “I believe you have met Dori already. Did you know he studied with Hobbits for four and a half years on Bree?”

“He did?” Bilbo asked, brightening up. “No one told me that.”

“Oh, aye, I am sure Dori would be more than happy to talk with you about Hobbits and your strange little customs.”

“You think?”

“Let me see if I can find him,” Balin said. He patted Bilbo on the knee before standing. “Someone needs to ensure you stay out of trouble.” He winked at Bilbo and left the medical bay.


	7. Governments and Guilts

**Governments and Guilt**

It had started with a dare from Nali in the Blue Mountains’ market place. Nori had only been thirty-six at the time, still immature and free-spirited. Dori had always been running after Nori, trying in vain to keep him out of trouble.

Nali had bet Nori couldn’t pickpocket the Man buying bread from the bakery stall across the street. Nori had bet otherwise and proceeded to sneak up behind the Man, slipping his hands into the Man’s and stealing his purse. The rush as Nori darted away from the oblivious Man had been wonderful. He wanted it again, wanted to feel the danger of being found out and scolded. Wanted to know the sensation of getting away without a single soul knowing.

Over the years he learned what to and what not to do. Guards and shoppers alike would catch Nori in the attempt and he would never try that trick again, unless he spruced it up with a few sneaky additions. He got better and better, moving on from stealing money to items from shops and even jewelry off the fingers of unsuspecting individuals.

The first time Dwalin had caught him was when Nori had been fifty-two. Dwalin had taken him home where Dori had reacted in horror and promised Nori would do no such thing again. Nori had been so disgusted he’d left the house that night, avoiding Dori for four days before he returned home. He began to leave the home more often until Dori had been fired from the tea shop he had worked at. When Nori heard of Gandalf’s offer he had done the only thing he could for his older brother: he settled down to remain home with Ori. He had been eighty-four at the time. Sixty years later, at one hundred and forty-two, he found himself arrested for attempting to help Bilbo escape the Government of the Free People’s prison.

Nori and the human agent stared at each other for a full five minutes before either of them spoke. The agent shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Nori allowed himself an inward smirk. Years of thieving and arrests had prepared Nori for any form of interrogation the Men decided to use.

“So,” the Man said, tugging uncomfortably at his loose shirt collar. The tie had been removed and was clearly stuffed in his pocket.

“So . . ?” Nori imitated the agent. He shifted in his seat. His hands had been cuffed tightly to the arms to prevent the thief from trying anything.

“Nori the thief,” the Man said uncertainly. The stack of papers in his hands were shuffled nervously.

“And Smith the agent,” Nori replied with a cocky air. “Are you the good cop or bad cop?”

“Neither,” Agent Smith said. “I am an agent of the Government of the Free Peoples. There are no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ cops in this room.”

“Damn, I was going to ask for an iced mocha with a triple espresso shot.” The words had no effect on the agent’s expressions whatsoever. “Wow, tough crowd,” Nori muttered. “Look, why don’t we just skip the interrogation crap and just get straight to the good stuff.”

“And what ‘good stuff’ is that?” Agent Smith asked. He leaned forward, weaving his fingers together and his chin on them. “You and your crew are in - .”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re in a lot of trouble,” Nori said with a shrug. “What do you want from a crew of smugglers? Long story short, I joined the crew five years ago with my brothers and have been working for Thorin as his thief ever since.”

“Your bother told me you are Thorin’s direct connection to the black-market,” the Man said.

“Yeah, what of it?” Nori asked. “So I deal with shady people. I’ve been doing it all my life.”

“And would any of these ‘shady people’ have been human traffickers?” Agent Smith asked. Nori surged out of his seat, causing him to leap back in surprise and fall out of his chair.

“Never suggest that again,” Nori snarled as he settled back into his seat. His wrenched wrists ached from the sudden movement. “I would never associate myself with those kinds of people.”

Agent Smith shakily stood from the floor and righted his seat, sitting down once more. “Nori, I suggest you do not make any moves like that again,” he said. “Or you will be sedated and sent to prison without a trial.”

“Like the trial’s going to be fair anyway,” Nori muttered. “Just skip all the niceties and get to the point. What do you want to know?”

“You and your crewmembers found a Halfling late last September,” Agent Smith said. “I have already spoken with Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Dori; all of whom have started telling me an interesting story. Do you have anything you want to add to it?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Nori said. “Where’d Dori leave off?”

“Your brother had confronted Thorin about Bilbo,” the agent said. “Balin had told Bilbo of Thorin’s history.”

“Bilbo had been on the ship for nearly seven days by then,” Nori said thoughtfully. “The very next day we reached the Shire system only to find it surrounded by Government ships . . .”

O.o.O

“Thorin, get in here!” Fili’s shout carried out of the cockpit. In the engine room, Thorin groaned to himself. Bifur, who he had been speaking to, cocked his head in confusion before returning to his work at the engine.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Thorin told Bifur who nodded and mumbled in Khuzdul. Thorin’s knees popped as he straightened up, making his way out of the engine room and down the hall. Fili was sitting stiffly in his chair while Kili stared at a video screen beside him. “What is it, Fili? Why have we stopped?”

“Uh, yeah, the captain’s here,” Kili told someone on the video screen. “Just a second.” Turning around he mouthed ‘Government’ at Thorin. Thorin’s stomach dropped and his jaw clenched. Slowly, he made his way to take Kili’s place before the video screen. A Government official, captain of a ship by the looks of his uniform, nodded to him.

“Captain Durin I presume,” the Man said.

“Indeed,” Thorin said. “And who are you?” Fili kicked his leg and he glared at his nephew out of the corner of his eye. ‘Play nice,’ Fili mouthed, but Thorin ignored him.

“I am Captain Jones of the _G.F.P_ _Palantir_ ,” the Man – Captain Jones – said. “What is your ship doing on the edge of the Shire system?”

“We have come to speak with Gandalf,” Thorin said honestly. “No other reason.”

“I see,” Captain Jones said. He looked sideways at someone off screen and spoke in muted tones before returning to Thorin. “Captain Durin, prepare for your ship to be boarded and searched. I want every member of your crew at the doors when we arrive.” The screen flickered black before Thorin could respond. He stared at the screen in stunned silence for a moment before Fili spoke.

“What do we do?” his elder nephew asked. “Do we run?”

“We’re not hauling anything illegal, though,” Kili said. At both Fili and Thorin’s pointed looks he flushed brightly. “I, um, I meant . . . never mind.”

“We stay here and prepare to be boarded,” Thorin told his nephews, clapping Fili on the shoulder. “Stop her here and head down to the cargo bay.”

“Yes sir,” Fili said. He turned back to the console as Kili turned and fled from the room. “What about Bilbo?”

“Leave him to me,” Thorin said. Following Kili from the cockpit, he crossed over to the engine room. “Bifur.” The permanently injured Dwarf popped up from behind the engine to look at Thorin. “Find your cousins and get down to the cargo bay. We are being boarded.” Bifur spoke in Khuzdul and Thorin nodded. “Aye, it is the Government. Do _not_ mention Bilbo to them.” Bifur nodded and Thorin pulled out of the engine room. Fili had already left the cockpit to join Kili in the cargo bay.

Thorin descended the stairs into the eating area, Bifur pounding down after him. Dori, Ori, Gloin, and Oin were sitting at the table playing a card game. Bombur’s rotund form wandered around the kitchen as he prepared the next meal. Gloin looked up at Thorin’s arrival and grinned.

“Where was young Fili going in such a rush?” he asked. “We didn’t even get the chance to ask if he wanted to join us.”

“He said something about the cargo bay,” Dori added as he laid a card down atop Oin’s. Bifur barked at him in Khuzdul and the four Dwarves jumped. “What do you mean we are being boarded?”

“We have reached the Shire system,” Thorin told his crew as Bifur slipped past him to find Bofur. “Unfortunately the Government found us before we could hail Gandalf. They have requested to board and search the ship.”

“What do we do?” Ori asked in terror. The cards in his hands fluttered down to the table, unnoticed by any of the players.

“Get down to the cargo bay,” Thorin ordered. “Leave the Halfling to me. Where is Nori?”

“He and Bofur were in the cargo bay last I checked,” Gloin told Thorin. He stood, tugging a confused Oin to his feet.

“Where are we going?” Oin asked his older brother.

“To the cargo bay,” Gloin told his brother. Whatever Oin was about to say was lost as the descended the stairs to the third level. Dori, Ori, and Bombur were quick to follow him down.

Instead of heading toward the cargo bay with the rest of his crew, Thorin made his way into the sleeping quarters. He knocked on Dwalin and Balin’s door. Balin was the one to answer.

“Is something wrong, Thorin?” he asked, frowning. “You do not usually visit us in our quarters.” Behind him Thorin could see Dwalin pausing in the action of cleaning his axes.

“The Government is demanding to board,” Thorin told his old friend. “Everyone is to go down to the cargo bay.”

“Bilbo,” Balin breathed.

“I will handle it,” Thorin said. He stepped aside, holding the door open for Balin. “The rest of the crew have already made their way down.” Balin nodded and quickly left the room. Dwalin had made to follow his older brother but Thorin stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Thorin?” Dwalin asked in confusion.

“Do you remember the niche Kili found in the cockpit our first day on the ship?” Thorin asked the warrior.

“Aye,” Dwain said. “What of it?”

“Find the Halfling and get it up there,” Thorin ordered.

“It’s not goin’ to like that,” Dwalin commented. Thorin scowled at him.

“It does not have to,” he snapped. “Just do what you have to. I would rather not be arrested for the possession of a Halfling today.”

“Alright,” Dwalin said hesitantly. He dropped his axes to the floor and followed Thorin out of the room.

“Meet me down in the cargo bay when you have finished,” Thorin said as he headed for the stairs. “Do not take too long.”

Dwalin nodded as he watched Thorin leave the second floor. His eyes fell on Oin’s case sitting on the dining table and an idea sparked. Flipping the case open, he removed a small syringe filled with sedative. Syringe in hand, he made his way down the hall toward the medical bay.

O.o.O

Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what happened. One moment he had been reading his book and the next the lights had gone black. There was a few seconds in which Bilbo panicked until red emergency lights flickered on. Standing slowly, the Hobbit looked around himself.

“Hello?” he called uncertainly. “Nori? Bofur?” Bilbo slowly made his way around the examination table, careful not to bump into anything. A rustle caused him to whirl around in panic, his heart pounding against his chest. “Balin?” he squeaked out.

A hand clapped down on Bilbo’s shoulder and he squealed, leaping in surprise. The hand shoved Bilbo against the wall and pinned him there. Bilbo struggled helplessly as he felt something stab him in the side of the neck. Another yelp left his lips. Something was tossed aside and another hand pinned him against the wall.

“H-Help,” Bilbo mumbled as black dots swarmed over his vision. The last thing he saw was a tattooed head before he sank to the floor unconscious.

O.o.O

Thorin watched Dwalin emerge from the second floor stairwell. The taller nodded to him. The deed was done, the Halfling hidden. Thorin nodded back and turned around to face the door, his arms crossed. No one spoke as the minutes ticked by until the ship shuddered.

“They’ve connected the docking tunnel,” Kili whispered unhelpfully. He was standing closer to Thorin than he usually did.

“It’s alright, Kili,” Fili told his younger brother, taking Kili’s trembling hand. “We’ll be fine.” Dwalin stopped beside Thorin and stood with his legs spread and his arms folded over his chest.

The doors to the cargo bay hissed open and several men marched in. They were all dressed in black police uniforms. Nine connected golden rings were embossed over their heart. The thirteen Dwarves were surrounded and guns aimed warningly at them. Thorin raised his hands slowly in a nonthreatening gesture, his crew slowly imitating him. Captain Jones was the last Man to board the ship. He looked the Dwarves over before addressing Thorin.

“Is this your whole crew, Captain Durin?” he asked.

“It is,” Thorin said.

“Thirteen Dwarves seem a little much to run a single ship,” the Man commented drily.

“We have two engineers and two pilots,” Thorin said. “Bifur and Bofur are the engineers. Fili and Kili, my sister sons, are the pilots.”

“You have family aboard the ship,” Captain Jones said. “That sounds like a fight waiting to happen.”

“We make do with what we have,” Thorin said. He didn’t bother telling the human captain about the rest of the family members aboard his crew.

“What brings you to the Shire system?” Captain Jones asked Thorin, clasping his hands behind his back. Thorin eyed the gun aiming at his head warily.

“I told you, we are here to speak to Gandalf.” Beside him Balin stiffened at his words.

“Gandalf is not here at the moment,” Captain Jones said. Thorin’s heart pounded against his chest at the words. “He left for Rivendell several weeks ago.”

“Rivendell?” Thorin repeated. “What does Gandalf want with the Elves?”

“I believe he was looking for you,” Captain Jones said. He strode forward to stand before Thorin, looking down at the Dwarf. “Captain Durin, were you aware this is a one hundred mile restraining order around the Shire system for all non-Government ships currently?”

“No,” Thorin said truthfully. “We have been out of range of any news for a short while now.”

“Yes, well, there is,” the Man said. “Two and a half weeks ago a ship carrying three Dunedain and seven Hobbits was attacked.” Thorin’s heart was pounding in his throat now. “The ship was headed for a governmental hearing on the matter of the Hobbit’s sanctuary. It never made it. The ship was found ten days ago: three Dunedain and six Hobbits dead, one Hobbit missing. The ship had been struck by smugglers.” The Man’s eyes wandered over the Dwarves.

“We have been nowhere near the Shire system for the past five weeks,” Thorin said, his mouth dry.

“I never said the ship was near the Shire system,” Captain Jones told Thorin. He stepped back and nodded to the other Men with him. “Search the ship,” he ordered. Five of the Men left the cargo bay, three of them heading up the stairs to the first and second floors. “The ship was near Staddle when it was struck.”

“That is a Hobbit reservation,” Dori said softly. He flushed when the Man’s gaze turned on him.

“And how do you know about that particular reservation?” Captain Jones asked. Thorin didn’t dare look over his shoulder as Dori spoke.

“I-I have worked a bit with Hobbits before with Gandalf,” the fussy Dwarf said quickly.

“A participant of Gandalf’s Reintroduction experiment?” Captain Jones asked. Thorin supposed Dori must have nodded because the Man then asked, “How long?”

“Four and a half years on Bree,” Dori said stiffly. “Though I spent the first and last three months on Staddle during the experiment.”

“I see,” the Man said slowly. His gaze turned back to Thorin. “Do you have your papers for the ship?” he asked.

“They are right here,” Balin said hurriedly. He procured the papers from his jacket pocket, handing them to Captain Jones. The Man opened the leather case and examined the papers for several minutes before he spoke.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he eventually said. Closing the papers, he handed them back to Balin. “If your ship is checks out clean then you will be permitted to leave free. Keep in mind, though, you are not to come this close to the Shire system again.” Thorin nodded once before turning back to his crew.

“ _Where is Bilbo?_ ” Balin asked Thorin in quiet Khuzdul.

“ _Not here,_ ” Thorin answered. The crew shifted uneasily in their spots as the Men continued to aim their guns at them. Ori sidled closer to Dori and Nori, managing to wiggle himself between his older brothers.

A stiff silence hung in the air for the next several minutes. The armed Men slowly relaxed until the guns were no longer aimed at the Dwarves. Nori and Bofur had taken it upon themselves to entertain Ori and Kili, trying to take their minds off the situation at hand. They stopped, though, when the Men searching the ship returned. One of them spoke hurriedly to their captain and the crew held their breath. The captain turned to them.

“My men could find nothing of any danger on your ship,” he said. “You’re free to go. You may want to head to Rivendell to find Gandalf. I’m sure Lord Elrond would be more than happy to help you.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said, relief racing through him. “We will head there right away.”

Captain Jones gave Thorin a farewell nod before turning to his crew and ordering them off. The Men departed in a matter of minutes and the docking tunnel was pulled back. The crew turned on Thorin the moment the Government’s ship was gone.

“Where’s Bilbo?” Bofur demanded. “Where’s the Hobbit?”

“In the niche up in the cockpit,” Thorin said. He had barely finished his sentence when Bofur and Nori had dashed off with Fili and Kili hot on their heels. Balin gave Thorin a confused look before he followed him.

“That was close,” Dori muttered, holding Ori close.

“Are we really headin’ to Rivendell?” Dwalin asked Thorin.

“Aye,” Thorin said, regret in his voice. “We will take the Great East Road through Bree. I want this Halfling off my ship in the next week.”

“What if the wizard’s not there?” Dwalin asked. Thorin was aware of the remaining crew waiting for his answer.

“We leave it on Rivendell,” Thorin sad. “The Elves can return it to the sanctuary here.” Dori had opened his mouth to respond when Kili came charging back down to steps to the gangway.

“Oin!” he shouted, leaning precariously over the railing. “It’s Bilbo, his heart’s not beating!” Thorin had never seen Oin move so fast in all his life. The medic was charging up the stairs after Kili who disappeared back up the stairs. Thorin felt Dwalin stiffen beside him.

“He’s dead?” Ori cried out.

O.o.O

Balin looked up as Kili and Oin charged into the cockpit. The medic was quick to kneel down beside, reaching for Bilbo’s wrist. Bofur and Nori had been the first to arrive in the cockpit, lifting the panel up from the floor and pulling the Hobbit out of the niche. It had been Nori would have noticed the worst.

“He is not dead,” Oin said after a minute. “But his heart is barely beating. We need to get him down to the medical bay immediately.” Bofur was the first to react, gathering his small friend into his arms. Oin led the way down the stairs and through the second floor into the medical bay. Nori followed the two other Dwarves, Balin having kept Fili and Kili behind in the cockpit.

“Lay him on the table,” Oin ordered Bofur who hurried to obey. He clasped a finger sensor on Bilbo’s right pointer finger. Almost immediately the screen behind him began to _beep_ with his heart rate.

“What are ya goin’ ta do?” Bofur asked Oin fearfully. Oin dug through a drawer under the bottles of medicine before he procured a small syringe.

“Adrenaline,” Oin said simply before he jabbed Bilbo in the thigh, injecting the adrenaline straight into the Hobbit’s bloodstream. The syringe was tossed in the trash and the three Dwarves watched the heart monitor with bated breath. It was several minutes before the being increased dramatically and Oin sighed.

“He’ll be fine,” Oin said, patting Bilbo’s knee. “His heart rate is a little erratic right now but it should even out.”

“Thank Mahal,” Bofur muttered to himself. The doors of the medical bay hissed open to allow Thorin in. Oin rounded on him the moment the captain entered.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded. Thorin’s eyes narrowed at the words.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” he said.

“No one but you would have been foolhardy enough to inject the Hobbit with such a strong dose of sedative,” Oin accused. “You almost killed him.”

“That was not me,” Thorin said. “I told Dwalin to hide the Halfling so the Government would not find it.”

“ _Him_!” Bofur said in exasperation. “Bilbo is a ‘him’ not an ‘it’.”

“Why would you tell Dwalin to sedate the Hobbit?” Oin asked Thorin hotly. Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out hard, trying to stay calm.

“I did not tell him to sedate the Halfling,” he said. “I simply told him to do what he had to.”

“You could have killed him,” Nori snapped. “What would you have done then?”

“That is not - ,” Thorin began, but Bofur interrupted him.

“Ya’ve hated Bilbo the moment he came onta this ship,” the engineer said. “Have ya been plannin’ this from the start?”

“I have not been planning anything,” Thorin snarled. When Bofur, Nori, and Oin began to speak over one another he roared, “Enough!” The three Dwarves shut up at that. “I told you all very clearly to stay away from the medical bay and you clearly disobeyed me. You allowed the Halfling to wander the ship and speak to the other Dwarves. Until further notice you two, Bofur and Nori, will be confined to your rooms.”

“But the engine,” Bofur began.

“Bifur can handle it by himself,” Thorin said gruffly. “And if either of you disobey my orders again you will find yourself stranded on the closest moon or planet.” His words left a stunned silence in the room as he left the medical bay.

“I am going to _kill_ him,” Nori growled out the moment Thorin was gone. Bofur laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

“You and me both,” his friend said. “But I think Dwalin would kill us before we could do it.”

“I can’t believe he’s acting so nonchalant about this after he almost killed Bilbo,” Nori said. He stormed from the medical bay, Bofur following him closely. “The next moon we land on I’m getting off.”

“Ya can’t be serious?” Bofur said in disbelief. “What about yer brothers?”

“Dori can take care of Ori just fine,” Nori snapped. “Besides, Ori is a big Dwarf now, he can handle whatever life throws at him. Are you with me?” he asked. Bofur hesitated.

“I-I don’t know,” Bofur said slowly. “I’ve got ta take care of Bif, and I can’t leave Bombur alone on this ship. He’d never forgive me.”

“Fine, be that way,” Nori said before storming away down the hall.

“Bless me,” Bofur said, scratching his hair under his hat. “What are we goin’ ta do now?”

O.o.O

Balin found his younger brother in their shared bedroom, having left Fili to calm Kili down. Dwalin was pulling clothes from the dresser and stuffing them into a bag. His arsenal of weapon had been laid out on his bed.

“And where do you think you are going?” Balin asked, planting his hands on his hips. Dwalin spared a glance before he turned back to packing.

“The Blue Mountains,” Dwalin grunted out. He zipped the bag shut and tossed it onto the bed.

“May I ask why?” Balin asked his younger brother. Dwalin marched past him and opened their shared nightstand to pull his money purse out of the drawer. Balin waited patiently for the answer, knowing it would pay off in the end. And it did. Dwalin groaned and turned about to face him.

“I almost killed a Halflin’ today,” Dwalin said. “What have I become if I’ll willingly attack a helpless person.”

“Lost,” Balin said. “Lost and stubborn is what you have become. I have been trying to help you for years but you rebuked me every time. How is leaving for the Blue Mountains going to help you in this situation?”

“I’ll be off the ship and away from the Halflin’,” Dwalin said, returning to his packing.

“Will you return when we have left the Halfling with Gandalf?” Balin asked. He refused to move when Dwalin straightened up, bag in one hand and axe in the other.

“I don’t know yet,” Dwalin said. “I might not return.”

“Neither of those shuttles will get you very far,” Balin pointed out. “They will run out of gas before you reach any destination and you will be left dead in the water.”

“What do you want me to do, brother?” Dwalin asked helplessly. “The crew will have my head for what I did to the Halfin’.”

Balin took a deep breath before speaking. “Stay on the ship,” he suggested. When Dwalin opened his mouth to argue he raised a hand. “Just until Bree or Rivendell. You can get off there and find another ride to the Blue Mountains.”

“You’re not talkin’ me out of this?” Dwalin asked in disbelief.

“No, I have had enough of trying to lecture you,” Balin told his younger brother. “And I will not be the one to tell Thorin where you disappeared off to. Now, unpack your things and come to dinner before anyone suspects something is up.” Balin left the room before Dwalin could say another word, letting the door swing shut behind him. Leaning against the door, Balin sighed sadly.

“Oh, brother,” he whispered. “When did you become like this?”


	8. Epiphanies and Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I actually had someone tell me I've done an excellent job at mixing the Firefly and Hobbit fandoms together. What do you think?

**Epiphanies and Escape**

Nori leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. If the agent suspected something strange he didn’t say anything. The papers in his hands were shuffled once more and then smoothed out on the table.

“Your captain seems to have made his opinion very clear,” Agent Smith commented.

“Tell me about it,” Nori said. He rocked his chair back on its back legs. “Bofur and I were confined to our rooms for three days.”

“Was this when you reached Bree?” the Agent asked.

“Aye,” Nori said, rocking back and forth precariously. “We stopped in Bree to pick up a few items and gas up. Too bad we didn’t know something more was going happen.”

O.o.O

_Sharp hands grabbed at him from the black shadows as he ran. They tugged at his clothes. They pulled at his hair. High, cold laughter filled his ears and he covered them. But it didn’t stop. The laughter continued, the hands grabbed. And suddenly a hole opened beneath him and he was falling down, down, down into a bottomless pit. The laughter turned maniacal and a lid was drawn over the pit._

_Bilbo tried to call out for help. He tried to grab for the walls falling past him. He tried to do something. But nothing worked. No sound came from his lips. The walls bent away from his fingers. And he continued to fall down, down, and down._

_A mess of flailing limbs, Bilbo managed to turn himself over in midair. Then he saw the floor and it was coming up faster than he could have imagined. He couldn’t stop himself from falling as the floor flew up to meet him. The cold, hard, heartless steel floor._

Bilbo’s eyes flew open, the nightmare frightening him awake. The light shining in his face blinded him and he had to blink several times to clear his vision. When he did he saw he was back in the medical bay with Oin nowhere to be seen. Someone had perched the bed up so Bilbo was in a position between lying down and sitting up. Bilbo tried to sit up but was stopped by something. Looking down, his eyes widened at the sight of the straps that had returned.

“O-Oin?” Bilbo called helplessly. He wriggled against the straps but they refused to give. “Nori? Bofur? Anyone?” His calls went unanswered, the medical bay remaining as silent as the grave. “Please, someone. Anyone, help me.”

O.o.O

Dinner was a quiet affair without the presence of Bofur and Nori. Thorin had stuck true to his threats with the engineer and the thief. They had gone to sleep the night before and woken up to find their bedroom doors had been locked from the outside, trapping them until Thorin chose to release them. Access to the medical bay had been blocked off by the common area’s steel door connecting to it.

An awkward silence hung in the air as the Dwarves ate, occasionally looking up to one another. Kili had finished his meal ten minutes ago but he still hadn’t left the table. He didn’t want to be the first to leave the table and Fili still had a ways to go. Thorin sat at the head of the table with his back to the medical bay, eating silently.

“Kili, lad,” Balin finally said. “Why not take some dinner to Bofur? I am sure he quite hungry.” Thankful for the escape, Kili grabbed the offered plate from Balin.

“Sure thing,” he said with a grin before he hopped up from his seat nearly running up the stairs to the third floor. He paused at Bofur’s door in the hall and knocked on it.

“Bofur,” Kili called through the steel. “I brought you dinner, thought you might be hungry.” He waited for a response, smiling when he heard a fist hit the door on the other side. “Alright, you better stand back.” Without waiting for another response, Kili punched in the code to the door and grabbed the handle, kicking the door open. Bofur was waiting on the ladder, looking up hopefully.

“Any news on Bilbo?” Bofur asked. Kili crouched down to pass the food down to Bofur who gratefully accepted it.

“Nah,” Kili said. “Sorry, Thorin’s got him locked up pretty tight.” Bofur’s face fell at that and Kili wracked his brains for anything to say. “What about you?” he finally asked. “Are you getting anything done down there?”

“Well, Bif gave me a book on engines,” Bofur said. He gave Kili is signature smirk. “I think he’s tryin’ ta get me ta learn the proper names of the parts.”

“He’s been trying that for five years,” Kili commented. Ducking his head, he peeked around Bofur. “Did you rearrange your room?” he asked in disbelief.

“Twice.”

“You hate cleaning,” Kili laughed.

“I can’t argue with that,” Bofur agreed, chuckling. “But I’ve got nothin’ better ta do with my time. How’s Nori?”

“Pouting,” Kili said. “Ori said Nori is hiding his and Dori’s things again. He’s running out of places, though. Those rooms don’t exactly have many niches.”

“Aye, well, let me know if anythin’ interestin’ happens,” Bofur said. He made to descend the ladder when he turned back to Kili. “How far are we from Bree?”

Kili shrugged at that. “Another day and a half,” he guessed. “Maybe two. Why?”

“Nori told me he’s gettin’ off at Bree. He can’t take much more of Thorin.” Kili sat back on his heels, taking in this new bit of information. The silence hung in the air until Bofur finally spoke. “Well, I suppose I better let ya go fly this ship,” he said. Before Kili could find anything to say, the jovial Dwarf disappeared down into his bedroom.

Standing, Kili pulled the door shut and locked it. Bifur wandered up the steps, giving him a strange look before he disappeared into the engine room. Kili pursed his lips and made his way down to the cockpit, falling into the pilot’s chair to stare at the star-ridden sky. He had been alone for only a few minutes before Fili wandered in.

“I don’t see you in the pilot seat very often,” Fili commented as he moved to sit in the copilot seat. “You’re usually watching the sky from the lower deck.” He propped his heels up on the console. When Kili didn’t respond he frowned. “Something wrong, Kili?”

“Nah, nothing, I’m fine,” Kili said quickly, propping his chin in his hand. Silence lapsed between the brothers before he finally spoke. “Did you know that Nori is planning on leaving?” Fili looked genuinely shocked at this.

“No,” he said. “Why would he do that?”

“Bofur said something about him getting sick of Thorin,” Kili said. He shifted in his seat and picked at a string on his pants leg. “I can’t blame him, though.”

“What are you saying, Kili?” Fili asked, kicking his legs of the console. “Are you saying you want to leave too?”

“I don’t know,” Kili said honestly. “I was so excited when Thorin asked us to join his crew five years ago. I couldn’t wait to get up here and actually see the stars.” Kili stood from his chair to lean against the railing, staring longingly out the window. “It was fun the first year. But then . . . I don’t know.”

“Thorin got strict,” Fili suggested helpfully. He moved to stand beside his younger brother, wrapping an arm around Kili’s shoulders. “Balin told me Dwalin’s planning on leaving the ship too. He would have already left if Balin hadn’t convinced him to wait until Bree.”

Kili scoffed at that, dropping his face into his hand. “What happened?” he asked, his voice muffled. “We all used to get along so well. Then, then . . . Bilbo came.” The realization in his voice sparked Fili’s interest.

“Are you saying this is Bilbo’s fault?” Fili asked.

“No,” Kili said quickly. Straightening up, he shrugged Fili’s arm off and began pacing about the cockpit. “I’m not saying it’s Bilbo’s fault this is all happening.”

“Then what are you saying?” Fili turned to watch his brother pace, leaning back against the railing.

“I think it’s the change,” Kili said. “We’ve been on this ship or five years, just the thirteen of us, and then suddenly Bilbo falls into our lives. What if it was more than just chance?”

“You’re saying fate brought Bilbo to us?” Fili said in disbelief. “I think you’ll have to blame the smugglers for that, Kili. You heard what that Government captain said.”

“Yeah, I did,” Kili said. “But what if that wasn’t Bilbo? What if fate brought him to us? Don’t you get it? This could be our chance.”

“Our chance for what?” Fili asked. “Kili, you’re not making any sense. What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, never mind,” Kili said. “I’m going to bed.” He made his way to the first bedroom out of the cockpit and kicked the door open, beginning to climb down the ladder.

“Kili!” Fili called after his brother. Kili’s head popped back up.

“Bed,” he said. “Wake me up when you want me to fly.” Fili shook his head as Kili disappeared and the door shut. Waving a hand in Kili’s general direction, Fili fell into the pilot seat. He rested his chin in his hand and watched the stars float by.

“Chance for what?” he wondered aloud to himself. “What was Kili talking about?”

O.o.O

Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin sat around the cleared dining table, mugs of tea set before each of them. The rest of the crew had finished dinner an hour ago, Dori and Ori washing the dishes before they took dinner to Nori. The rest of the crew had cleared out of the dining area quickly, retreating to their respective bedrooms or, in Bifur’s case, the engine room.

“Thorin, lad,” Balin finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I believe it is time we had a talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Thorin said stiffly. He took a sip of his rather weak tea, courtesy of Dwalin, and set it down on the table with a _thunk_. He missed the look exchanged between Balin and Dwalin. He didn’t, however, miss how Balin nodded at him with a pointed look to Dwalin.

Dwalin inhaled deeply before speaking. “Thorin, listen,” he said hesitantly. “We’ve known each other most of our lives. I’ve followed you into battle and I still would. But . . . well, this is gettin’ out of hand.”

“What are you saying?” Thorin asked Dwalin, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Dwalin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m gettin’ off at Bree,” Dwalin told Thorin. “I almost killed an innocent creature yesterday followin’ one of your orders. I can’t take makin’ another mistake like that.” Thorin’s grip tightened on his mug, his knuckles turning white. “Do you understand?”

“No, I do not,” Thorin said in a strained voice. “What is with the Halfling and the crew’s fascination with it?”

“That’s now what I’m talkin’ about, Thorin,” Dwalin argued. Balin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the oncoming headache.

“But that is where this entire mess started,” Thorin said. “Ever since that Halfling was brought aboard my ship the crew has been acting out of turn. Now you tell me you are planning on leaving the ship.”

“And I do believe he is not the only one,” Balin said pointedly.

“You too, Balin?” Thorin asked his old friend. “After everything we have been through together?”

“No, not me,” Balin said. He hesitated before adding, “Not yet, anyway. No, I was talking about Dori. He has been expressing an interest in returning to Staddle if Gandalf permits it. He believes he could help Bilbo settle back down into a normal life in that reservation.”

“I cannot believe you would all so readily abandon me,” Thorin said, his volume growing with every word. “After everything I have done! I gave up a life in the Blue Mountains to run this ship!”

“You are not the only one who did,” Balin reminded Thorin calmly, but Thorin continued to rant.

“We were fine,” Thorin shouted. He didn’t care if his voice carried throughout the ship at the moment. All he cared about was making Balin and Dwalin understand. “We were living happily on this ship. And then that, that . . . _thing_ was brought aboard and suddenly you all want to leave!”

“Bilbo is not a _thing_ ,” Balin told Thorin in a cross voice. “Bilbo is a Hobbit, and as much a person as you or I.”

“That Halfling has been nothing but trouble since it got here,” Thorin snarled.

“Then why did you brin’ it on?” Dwalin demanded. “You were the one who decided to keep it instead of spacin’ it.” Thorin exhaled hard at that and sat back down in his chair.

“Thorin, laddie,” Balin said. “You need to understand. You are driving the crew off this ship with every passing day. Kili and Fili are terrified to be around you any longer. You confined Bofur and Nori to their rooms. And you have treated a person like a pest. If you are not careful, Thorin Oakenshield, you are going to wake up one day and find yourself alone on this ship.”

“That Halfling - ,” Thorin began but Balin interrupted him.

“Is terrified,” Balin said with a frown aimed directly at Thorin. “Look at it from his point of view, Thorin. The lad is on a ship heading for the Government when it is boarded by smugglers. He sees his kin and guards shot down and is taken away. Now he has woken up in an environment where he is clearly not welcome. Bilbo Baggins may not be a Dwarf but he does remind me of a certain one many years ago.” Thorin stared at him for a moment before blinking, then blinking again.

“I-I . . .” he said softly.

“You didn’t think of it like that,” Dwalin suggested. Thorin shook his head and fisted a hand in his hair.

“He is lost,” he whispered. “Far from home.” Memories of lost treasure and a burning mountain surfaced and he steeled himself.

“Now, here is what I suggest,” Balin said wisely. “We all go to bed and try to relax. In the morning you, Thorin, will release Bofur and Nori from the confinement to their rooms, you will apologize to the crew for your behavior, and you will allow them to have contact with Bilbo if they so desire. Then, maybe then, we can avoid losing nearly half our crew on our Bree.” Thorin hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Aye, that sounds like a good plan,” he said. Balin nodded wisely and stood, taking his mug to deposit in the sink. Pausing by Thorin on the way out, he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Just remember, laddie,” Balin said. “Bilbo is in very much a similar position to where you were once.” He left the dining area, allowing the words to sink in. Dwalin leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Thorin looked to him with a pain in his heart.

“Are you truly planning to leave?” he asked Dwalin who shrugged.

“That depends,” Dwalin said.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you start treating the crew and the Halfling differently.”

O.o.O

Bilbo twisted at the restraints around his wrists, biting his lip to stave the pain of it. He had no idea how much time had passed – hours, he was sure – since he had woken up alone in the medical bay. The sound of raised voices had leaked through the steel door, particularly Thorin’s saying a single word that made Bilbo’s stomach twist.

“ _That, that . . . **thing**._ ”

Thing. Was Bilbo really nothing more than an object in Thorin’s eyes? How had he, Bilbo, managed to cause this vision? He had barely been on the ship two weeks, hardly knew anyone or what was going on, and already the captain hated him. Well, if no one wanted him around that was fine by Bilbo. He’d fix that easy enough.

With a final wrench, Bilbo yanked his wrist out of the restraint. He had to stop himself from hissing at the burning pain that coursed across the skin. It had turned a violent red, covered in rub marks from the material. Reaching across himself, Bilbo released his other wrist then moved down to his waist and finally his ankles. He leapt out of bed, stumbling slightly, before making his way to the medical bay door.

The dining area was empty when Bilbo dared to slide the steel door open. Still, Bilbo stayed frozen – the door open just a crack – and watched the dimly lit room. He was thankful he had. No sooner had Bilbo opened the door then a large form had stood from the table. It was the Dwarf from before, the one who had drugged him. Bilbo watched as the tattooed toward walked across the dining area to place something in the sink before he disappeared down the sleeping quarters hall.

Bilbo waited with bated breath before sliding the door open further. It squeaked slightly and he froze, cursing himself. No sound or movement came from down the hall, though, and Bilbo knew he was safe for the moment.

Creeping through the dining area, Bilbo descended the stairs to the cargo bay’s gangway. From there he made his way across to a pod. The door opened easily enough without a single sound. But once inside, Bilbo realized his dilemma. He had no idea how to fly a ship. He had only ever seen the console from behind Fili and Kili let alone been near one. Knowing engines was one thing, flying a ship was another.

“Blast it,” Bilbo muttered to himself. Stepping back out of the pod, he slid the door shut then looked around himself. The cargo bay was empty but for a few crates filling the vast empty spaces below. The rafters above cast eerie shadows across the floor and walls.

“The rafters,” Bilbo whispered to himself. They would be sturdy enough to hold a Hobbit and maybe a Dwarf or two. But what Dwarf would be mad enough to climb up into them? From what Bilbo had gathered about Dwarves they had a terrible balance across thin spaces and detested heights.

“Perfect,” Bilbo breathed. Scouting the wall of the cargo bay, he eventually found a series of rings screwed into the wall. Clearly they were made for hooks not for Hobbits to climb on. But that’s just what Bilbo did. Using the rings, he clambered his way up the wall and into the rafters in the ceiling. They were sturdy and cool beneath his feet, giving Bilbo a sense of security. At the base of a column several of the rafters connected to form a small platform large enough for a Hobbit to lay out on.

Bilbo made his way slowly across the rafters and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest. Until the ship landed somewhere, he would just have to stay here where the Dwarves wouldn’t be able to reach him.

And with that somewhat settling thought, he fell asleep.


	9. Apologies and Aprehension

**Apologies and Apprehension**

Kili had always wanted to see the stars. One could say it was his life ambition. He had grown up on the Blue Mountains where clouds lingered in the sky past sunset and blocked out most of the stars. When Kili and Fili had been younger Thorin would take them out to the wilderness on their birthdays so they could stargaze.

And then, when Kili turned seventy-two, Thorin had approached Fili and Kili and asked if they wanted to join his crew aboard _the Arkenstone_. The fight between Thorin and Dis had shook the house. Kili had thought his one chance to see the stars had been lost. The next morning, though, his mother had given him an engraved stone and had made him promise to return to her. Kili was going to see the stars.

Now, five years later, Kili was thankful he had gotten the chance to see the stars. From what Thorin had suggested, the crew would be sentenced to life in prison. No one would ever hear Kili complain, though. He had gotten to see the stars, fly a ship, meet a Hobbit, and even go on a quest to reclaim Erebor. Let the Men throw him in prison, he had no more life ambitions.

“Prisoner 1-12,” a voice squawked over the intercom. “Stand from your bed with your hand against the wall. Any suspicious acts will be punished.” Kili obeyed without complaint. He was handcuffed by a guard and turned about to face the agent carrying a stool in his room. The agent nodded to the guard who left with one final warning look to Kili.

The human agent and Kili stared at each for a short while, taking one another’s appearance in. The Man, in Kili’s opinion, couldn’t have looked more unprofessional. His hair had been tousled to stick up, the first few buttons of his collar had been undone, and he was lacking a suit jacket.

“Rough day?” Kili asked the Man conversationally. The Man nodded at him.

“I could ask you the same,” he said. The stool was set down on the floor and the agent settled himself onto it, motioning for Kili to sit on the bed. “I see your nose bleed stopped.”

“Yeah, it took a few hours,” Kili said, seating himself on his cell bed. “I hear you’ve been talking to the others.”

“Where did you hear that from?” the agent asked in a tired voice.

“Have you been in one of these cells?” Kili asked him, nodding back to the wall. “They’re not exactly sound proof.”

“These cells are only temporary,” the human agent said. “They are not to act as permanent prison cells.”

“That and Bofur gets pretty loud when he’s telling a story,” Kili said. A grin spread across his face. “Did he try singing to you?”

“No,” the Man said slowly. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the knee. “Now, Kili, - .”

“That’s me, I never caught your name. What was it?”

“You may call me Agent Smith. Now, you and your older brother Fili are the pilots of _the Arkenstone_ , correct?”

“Yep.”

“When did you first start piloting the ship?” Agent Smith asked.

“When I was sixty-seven,” Kili told him. “The same time I joined the crew with Fili.”

“Who taught you to fly the ship?”

“Thorin,” Kili said. He grinned sheepishly. “Fili does most of the flying. Thorin doesn’t really trust me behind the wheel.”

“Why not?”

“He says I’m too rambunctious, so I only fly when Fili needs a break . . . and as a getaway. I’m pretty good with evasive maneuvers, and I can handle Bofur and Bifur when they’re messing around with engine again.”

“Alright,” the agent said, shifting in his seat. “Based on what the other crewmembers have told me you and your brother were keen on Bilbo remaining on your ship. Why is that?”

Kili gave a sarcastic look. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “Have you never been near a Hobbit before? Bilbo makes life on the ship funner . . . more fun. Is funner a word?” Kili wondered aloud.

“No, I don’t believe it is,” Agent Smith said. Kili shrugged at that and settled back against the wall, preparing to get comfortable.

“Right, so where did Nori leave off?” he asked.

“Bilbo had just escaped from the medical bay,” Agent Smith said. Kili had to hide his smile at the eagerness in the Man’s voice.

“Right, well, we didn’t actually know where Bilbo was at the time,” Kili said. “Or that he had even escaped . . .”

O.o.O

Thorin grumbled to himself and rolled over in his bed. Kili and Fili were at it again, conversing in loud whispers in the dining area. When would they learn their voices carried through the ship?

Giving up on the idea of sleeping in, Thorin threw back the sheets and rolled out of bed. He grabbed a tunic on his way out of his room and padded down the hall to the dining area. Kili and Fili stopped speaking the moment he wandered in. Thorin nodded them both a greeting.

“Morning, Thorin,” Fili said.

“Good morning, Fili,” Thorin said, filling the kettle to make coffee. “Good morning, Kili.” There was a scuffle behind him and Kili yelped.

“Good morning, Thorin,” Kili said in a strained voice, and Thorin smiled at the sink. Fili must have kicked his brother again.

“What are you two doing up so early?” Thorin asked his nephews, turning around to face them. Fili and Kili shared a look before answering too quickly for Thorin’s liking.

“Nothing,” they said together. Thorin raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t comment. When neither Fili nor Kili said anything more he grabbed a package of dried fruit and sat at the table with them.

“Kili, would you mind going to wake up Bofur?” he asked. Kili opened his mouth to speak but Fili kicked him under the table. Thorin had to hide his chuckle behind a cough as Kili fled up the stairs to release Bofur from his prison.

“I need to speak with the crew this morning,” Thorin told Fili. His nephew brightened up at that.

“Can I do it?” Fili asked his uncle a bit too eagerly. Thorin didn’t hesitate to nod. Fili leapt from his chair and raced into the kitchen, digging through the cupboards for decently loud pots and pans. Thorin shook his head at his nephew’s antics. If he wasn’t careful Dwalin would kill him.

Fili tiptoed past Thorin into the sleeping quarters. There was a moment of bliss silence in which Thorin steeled himself for chaos. He was just starting to wonder what Fili was doing when suddenly _clang, clang, clang!_

“WAKE UP!” Fili shouted as he banged the pots and pans in his hands together. “IT’S MORNING! THE BIRDS ARE SAYING GOOD MORNING!” Thorin chuckled to himself as his nephew ran back and forth through the short hall.

“Mahal damn you, Fili!” Dwalin’s roar echoed through the sleeping quarters and into the dining area. A door slammed open and Fili raced out of the sleeping quarters, a bear of a Dwarf hot on his heels. “I’m goin’ to kill you!”

“Not if you can’t catch me!” Fili shouted happily, racing around the dining table. Thorin ducked his head to avoid the pan flying past his head. Dwalin growled and made a grab at Fili, missing by a hair.

“Dammit.”

“What’s goin’ on down here?” Bofur asked with a grin as he descended the stairs. Bifur stood behind him, watching the whole event with a confused look. Kili launched himself from the top of the stairs, over the two other Dwarves, and into the dining area. He had the unfortunate chance of landing directly in front of Dwalin and tripping him.

“Dammit,” Dwalin growled out again, staying on the floor. “Do you two plan this every night?”

“Not at all,” Kili said with a laugh. Dwalin rolled off him and he sprang back to his feet.

“You’re too excited for whatever time it is,” Dwalin grumbled. He pulled himself up and into a chair.

“What do you two think you are doing causing such a ruckus?” Dori demanded hotly as he stalked into the dining area. “Some of us are trying to sleep.” His normally intricate braids had been taken out the night before his shower, his hair hanging down loosely.

“Thorin said I could,” Fili said, falling into the chair beside Dwalin. The larger Dwarf pulled him into a tight hug and mussed his hair.

“Little devils,” Dwalin said. Fili laughed and struggled against the warrior’s firm grip. “Sometimes I just want to lock you in your room until you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yer suggestin’ a very lon’ time,” Bofur said. Spotting him, Dori turned to Thorin.

“Does this mean Nori can come out of his room now?” he asked. Thorin nodded and the eldest brother retreated back to his room to release his younger brother. Gloin and Oin slipped past him into the dining area. Fili was greeted with a filthy look from Gloin and a perfectly chipper Oin.

“Are your hearing aids off again?” Kili asked Oin as the Dwarf greeted him with a smile.

“What did you say, laddie?” Oin asked loudly.

“Yep, they’re off.”

“And I don’t want to hear about you stealing our things again,” Dori lectured an annoyed Nori as he and his brothers entered the dining area, Balin following them slowly. Bombur was the last to wake up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

The thirteen Dwarves settled themselves down at the dining table, some a bit too tired than others to still be awake. The moment he sat down, Nori was fast asleep on Dori’s shoulder, snoring loudly.

“Honestly, I think he does this on purpose,” Dori told Gloin loudly. “He never wanted to go to bed like this when he was little.”

“Shut up,” Nori mumbled before returning to snoring. Ori giggled at that, only hushing at Dori’s scandalous look.

“I knew it! You’re not actually sleeping at all, are you?”

“No, not really. I’m just tired.”

“Why are we awake so early, laddie?” Balin asked Thorin. “We all know Fili only acts as an alarm clock when you allow him to.” Twelve pairs of eyes fell on Thorin and he straightened up, looking around the room at his crew.

“I wanted to apologize to you all,” Thorin said stiffly. He folded his hands before him on the table, clearing his throat. “My actions as of late have been uncalled for.”

“Ya can say that again,” Bofur muttered under his breath. A grin graced his lips when Balin scowled at him. “Sorry, go on.”

Thorin ignored Bofur as he continued. “Some of you are considering leaving the crew when we reach Bree,” he said. The Dwarves who didn’t know gasped and began to converse between each other until Thorin held up a hand and a silence fell. “I realize now it is my fault you have made these decisions. I ask only this of you: remain on the ship until we reach Rivendell. I would feel more comfortable leaving you in a protected area than on that moon.”

“What about Bilbo?” Bofur asked. Thorin sighed and rubbed his face before continuing.

“We are still leaving it on Rivendell with or without Gandalf,” he said. “I believe the Half- Bilbo,” he said when Balin gave him a pointed look. “I believe Bilbo would be happier in Rivendell than with spending his life running from the Government.”

“Can we talk to him, though?” Nori asked, pulling himself up off Dori’s shoulder. “He could still have a bit of fun before he has to leave.”

Thorin hesitated before speaking his plan. “Aye, you may all talk with him. I believe Oin still has some restrictions on what Bilbo can and cannot do. And there is a rather empty bedroom in the sleeping quarters.” Bofur whooped at this and Kili looked at Thorin in shock.

“You’re going to give him a room?” Thorin’s younger nephew asked.

“I believe it would be more comfortable than sleeping in the medical bay,” Thorin suggested. Balin patted his knee under the table and Thorin gave his friend a small smile. “He is, after all, a person just like any of us.”

“That’s good news,” Dori said. He stood and moved to the kitchen to prepare several mugs of coffee. “Hobbits are very social creatures, striving off contact with other beings.”

“Can I go tell him the good news?” Bofur asked Thorin like a child. Thorin nodded slowly and the jovial Dwarf was out of his chair and racing to the medical bay. He disappeared through the steel door.

“What made you change your mind?” Gloin asked Thorin.

“My voice of reason,” Thorin said simply. Balin chuckled at that, shaking his head. The smile slipped away with Bofur’s shout.

“HE’S GONE!” Bofur stumbled out of the medical bay, his face sheet white. “Bilbo’s gone.”

“What?” Oin demanded. Thorin lurched from his seat and followed the medic into his work space. Just as Bofur had said the bed was empty. Four of the straps laid unbuckled on the bed, the last still looped tightly and locked down.

“He must have slipped out sometime while we were asleep,” Nori suggested, having followed Thorin. “There’s no other way he could have gotten out.”

Oin looked up from inspecting the belts. “The laddie probably has a case of rug burn while he’s at it,” he said. “He clearly twisted his wrist out of the straps to escape.” Thorin’s mind whirled at the prospect of the Hobbit loose on the ship. It was Bofur who finally spoke everyone’s thought.

“He could be anywhere.”

“Fili, Kili, check the cockpit,” Thorin ordered his nephews. The brothers nodded quickly before racing up the stairs. “Bofur, Bifur, check the engine room.” The cousins followed Fili and Kili before Thorin had finished his sentence. “Gloin, Dori, search the sleeping quarters.”

“Aye, laddie,” Gloin said before he and Dori hurried to the other side of the ship.

“Dwalin, Balin, and I will search the cargo bay,” Thorin said. Nori grabbed his arm before he could leave the medical bay.

“Is there anything I can do?” the thief asked.

“Search every nook and cranny we have aboard this ship,” Thorin told him. “Lockers, vents, cupboards. Search them all.” He left Nori to begin his search in the medical bay as he headed down to the cargo bay with Balin and Dwalin.

O.o.O

Bilbo held the small device up to the light, examining every inch of it. Bofur was really quite skillful. The translator had been expertly designed to conform to any size and shape of ears. The Hobbit would have never guessed the complexity of the device from the sheer size of it if he hadn’t been using it for the past few weeks.

Rolling over on his little platform, Bilbo turned his cupped hand over. He watched as the translators fell through the air and clattered to the floor. His heart lurched at that. He would feel terrible if they had broken. Bofur might be a little bit more than upset, just like how Bilbo’s aunt, Donnamira, used to get when the kids were too rambunctious.

Voices carried down the stairs into the cargo bay. They were guttural, speaking a language Bilbo didn’t understand. Bilbo rolled over further onto his platform to avoid sight. He watched as Thorin, Balin, and the tattooed Dwarf descended the stairs.

They paused on the gangway, Thorin giving what must have been orders to the other two Dwarves. Balin nodded and walked down one end of the gangway, opening one of the pod doors to inspect it. The tattooed Dwarf wandered down the other end to search the adjacent pods. Thorin stormed down the stairs and disappeared under it.

Bilbo’s heart almost stopped when the tattooed Dwarf turned around to look in his direction. He ducked down quickly, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Bilbo,” he heard Balin calling. His name sounded strange in the guttural language of the Dwarves. “Bilbo.” Balin’s next words were a stream of Khuzdul Bilbo couldn’t understand without the translators.

Balin emerged from the last of the two pods and leaned over the railing. He called down to Thorin who wandered back out from under the stairs.

“Dwalin,” Balin called across the cargo bay. The tattooed Dwarf reappeared from his last pod and grunted what must have been a negative answer. Balin sighed and muttered under his breath, planting his hands on his hips.

‘What do I do?’ Bilbo wondered to himself. ‘Blast it!’ He hadn’t thought through his plan past escaping the medical bay.

“Thorin,” a new voice called. Bilbo turned his head slightly to see Dori walking down the steps. The Dwarf said something to Thorin that made the captain shout angrily. Balin spoke calming words but Thorin proceeded to kick a crate in a childish fit of anger. Nori wandered up behind his brother and looked around himself, saying something to Dori that made his older brother roll his eyes.

‘Blast it all,’ Bilbo thought. He wanted to bang his head against the platform but he was sure that would give him away.

Nori’s exclamation caused Bilbo to perk up. Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, and Dori turned to look up at him. Bilbo leaned over slightly. Nori was holding something in his hands, examining the white . . . translators. Bilbo’s heart pounded against his chest. Five faces turned up to him and he rolled back onto his platform. He heard Thorin barking in Khuzdul before Dori’s voice carried up to Bilbo.

“Bilbo,” Dori said. “Bilbo, can you hear me?” Bilbo froze that. How did Dori now Hobbitsh? Not many people, save for the Dunedain and Gandalf, were willing to learn the language. Nori muttered something to his brother and Dori continued to call up. “Will you show us where you are?” he called.

Ever so slowly, Bilbo scooted toward the edge of the platform and peeked over it. Nori grinned up at him and waved, saying something before pointing to the translators in his hand. Dori punched his brother in the arm and Nori yelped.

“Bilbo,” Dori said, turning back to the Hobbit. “Why are you up there?”

“Because,” Bilbo said. When Dori cupped a hand behind his ear, Bilbo spoke a bit louder. “Because you don’t want me on your ship.” Four faces turned to Dori who translated for them quickly. Dwalin huffed and crossed his arms. Nori’s eyes widened and he turned to speak up to Bilbo quickly.

“That’s not true,” Dori said slowly, obviously translating for his brother. “We love having you here.”

“Thorin doesn’t,” Bilbo said. Thorin groaned when Dori translated that to him. Stepping forward, the captain began to speak earnestly to Bilbo.

“I was wrong to have said that,” Dori spoke for his captain. “I am sorry, it will not happen again. Why not come down from there now?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “I’m perfectly fine up here.”

Dwalin growled something that caused Balin to chastise him when Dori translated. Thorin barked an order and Nori disappeared back up the stairs. He returned moments later with Kili and Fili close behind him. Thorin spoke to them, motioning upward at Bilbo. Whatever he said ended in a questioning tone. Kili leaned his head back look up at Bilbo before he nodded and responded to Thorin’s question.

Balin looked around himself and asked the other Dwarves a question. Nori pointed to the wall, the very same place Bilbo had climbed up. Bilbo’s stomach knotted. He watched as Kili crossed to the wall and grabbed a hook, testing it. Finally, the young Dwarf pulled himself up. Kili scaled the wall with ease Bilbo had not seen in any of the Dwarves yet. Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo backed further back onto his platform.

Kili pulled himself onto a rafter. Standing slowly, he held his hands out to balance himself out. Thorin called up to him and Kili chuckled nervously. Kili took first one step forward and then another, gaining confidence as he moved. Bilbo allowed him to get halfway across the rafters before he darted in the opposite direction off the platform. He heard Kili’s dismayed cry and Thorin shouting furiously.

“Bilbo, please,” Dori called up to Bilbo. “We just want to help.”

“You can help by leaving me alone,” Bilbo shouted back. He moved through the rafters with more surety than young Kili, reaching the other end of the cargo bay quickly. Kili had to turn on the spot in order to head in his direction. Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw Nori and Fili climbing up the hooks in the wall to help their friend and brother.

“Bilbo, you’re going to fall,” Dori said. His hands were clasped before him as if in prayer. “Please, we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Leave me be, then,” Bilbo repeated through clenched teeth.

Nori and Fili managed to haul themselves up on different rafters. Nori moved with such a certainty through them that Bilbo was terrified for a moment. The Dwarf was a like a squirrel, scaling the metal beams faster than even him. Fili moved at a more sedated pace, his arms held out like Kili.

“Bilbo, please,” Dori said. Balin stepped up beside him and muttered in his ear. “Just come down so we can talk about this.” Dwalin was walking directly below Bilbo, keeping his eye on the Hobbit at all times.

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Bilbo shouted down to Dori. “I don’t even want to be here, so why won’t you just leave me alone?” Dori translated to Balin who sighed and nodded before speaking.

“We understand, Bilbo,” Dori said, translating for the older Dwarf. “You’re scared. We just want to help.”

“Would you knock it off with the offers of help,” Bilbo snapped. Nori’s hand snapped out to grab at his hand and he yelped. Dwalin shouted as Bilbo tilted back, his arms pin-wheeling.

“Bilbo!” Balin called out desperately at the same time Dori cried out to his brother.

The next few seconds were burned into Bilbo’s memory forever. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Nori’s hand swiped for Bilbo just as the Hobbit’s foot slipped off the beam. Shouts filled the air, deafening Bilbo in the great steel room. The sensation of falling filled him just as he reached out helplessly. His fingers hit the bottom ledge of the rafter and he clung on for dear life.

“Bilbo,” Nori said in a steady voice, standing directly over him. The Dwarf reached down and attempted to grab at Bilbo’s hand hanging onto the rafter. They were an inch shy of each other though. Nori spoke something to him in Khuzdul and wiggled his fingers.

“You need to reach up, Bilbo,” Dori shouted. “Nori can’t reach you.”

Bilbo flung his free hand up at Nori, their hands just barely missing. He spotted Fili hurrying down the rafter their way. The Dwarf’s movements caused the rafters to shudder and Bilbo cried out as his fingers slipped against the metal. Nori barked at Fili who froze, then turned back to Bilbo. He reached his hand down again. Bilbo threw his hand up one last time. His fingers had barely brushed Nori’s when his other hand lost the grip on the rafter. Nori’s eyes widened. Screams filled the cargo bay. And Bilbo was falling down, down, down.

Into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was where I got my first bout of writer's block! I think it took me at least five tries before I could actually get the next chapter going.


	10. Nightmares and Negativity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so many ways of starting this chapter. Not a single one of them worked until the day I started it with the nightmare . . . and then I had to run to work right after posting it. That had not been a good idea. Still, I got a lot of ideas at work!

**Nightmares and Negativity**

_“Bilbo, you silly boy, what were you doing up in that tree?” Auntie Mirabella asked as she pulled her young nephew into her lap. Bilbo sniffled pitifully and snuggled against her, seeking his aunt’s comfort._

_“I just wanted the apple,” he said with another sniffle. His aunt sighed and tousled his hair with a hand._

_“You’re too young to be climbing in trees,” Auntie Mirabella said. She pulled her nephew into a hug, burrowing her cheek against his hair._

_“But I wanted the apple,” Bilbo protested. “And I want to climb trees like Flambard.”_

_“But Flambard is three years older than you,” Auntie Mirabella pointed out. “And he knows how to climb trees. Now cheer up. We have guests coming today. You want to look nice for them, don’t you?” Bilbo nodded slowly. “Alright, why don’t you go play in the sitting room and I’ll find you some cookies.”_

_Slipping off his auntie’s lap, Bilbo pattered into the sitting room. There he found his Took cousins playing with blocks and dolls. They invited him to play, putting him in charge of the enemy army invading the Shire system. Bilbo had only been playing for five minutes when the doorbell rang._

_“Bilbo, will you get that for me, please?” Auntie Mirabella’s voice rang through her smial._

_Bilbo hopped up from the floor and raced to the front door, pulling it open. He froze at the sight before him. Thirteen Dwarves stared down at him with looks varying from sneering laughs to hateful glares. Bilbo knew each Dwarf by sight, though he had never seen them before in his ten years of life._

_“We found you, Halfling,” Thorin sneered. He reached down for Bilbo who screamed and turned to run, but the Dwarf was too fast. He found himself forty years older and being dragged back into the crowd of Dwarves who laugh and jeer._

_“Now, really, Bilbo,” Auntie Mirabella said, striding into the hall. “What did you expect when you left the Shire? You’d go on a happy little adventure and return home to find everything would be just where you left it.” She planted her hands on her hips. “You’ve made your bed now sleep in it.”_

_Bilbo screamed again as Thorin dragged him back and threw him to the ground. Bofur’s cruel laugh rang in his ears and Nori’s taunts pierced his skin like knives. Even Balin seemed disappointed in Bilbo._

_“Please,” Bilbo begged the Dwarves. “I didn’t mean to do it.”_

_“It is too late now, Halfling,” Thorin said as he kicked Bilbo, causing the Hobbit to cry out. “We never wanted you on our ship.”_

_“Yer nothin’ but trouble,” Bofur added and Bilbo whimpered._

_“Better off left in the crate on that ship,” Dwalin said. Bilbo cowered away from the Dwarves as their hands reached for him._

_“And there’s only one thing we do to cowards,” Nori said as Bilbo was lifted up by the front of his shirt._

_“We put them out of our misery,” Dori said. Bifur growled in Khuzdul, making a slicing gesture across his throat._

_“No, please,” Bilbo cried, writhing in Thorin’s grip. “I promise I can do better. Please! Bofur! Nori!”_

_“Don’t look to us,” Nori snapped._

_“We never liked ya in the first place,” Bofur sneered._

_“There is no point in keeping the unwanted aboard a ship,” Thorin said. Reaching out, he grabbed a handle that hadn’t been there before and jerked it back. A black hole opened up underneath Bilbo._

_“Please!” Bilbo screamed, struggling against Thorin. He didn’t want to die, not today, not ever. “Please, stop!”_

_“Goodbye, Bilbo Baggins,” Oin said. Thorin released the screaming Hobbit and Bilbo fell into the black hole. The Dwarves’ laughter rang in his ears._

_The walls raced past Bilbo as he plummeted down, down, down. His screams echoed through the air, left unheeded. The air whistled past Bilbo’s ears. No matter where he reached the walls shrank back away from his fingers. And then he was aware of something reaching for him. Fingers brushed the very tips of his own and a dismayed shout echoed through the space around him._

_“Bilbo!”_

_Bilbo tumbled through the air. He saw the ground rushing up to meet him. The unforgiving steel ground that would surely kill him. Bilbo shut his eyes tight and opened his mouth in a wordless scream._

Bilbo bolted upright, a scream tearing from his lips. He heard shouts around him and hands pushed him back down. The hands grabbed at his ankles and wrists as he struggled. Harsh words were muttered in his ears. Fingers carded through his hair and wiped the tears from his eyes. His wrist was turned over, revealing the soft skin, and a needle pricked his skin. Bilbo’s struggles slowed as his muscles relaxed against his will and the hands retreated. His head rolled to the side and he was back to sleep in seconds.

O.o.O

Thorin watched Balin return from the sleeping quarters, the older Dwarf shaking his head. Bilbo’s scream had echoed down from the room they had placed him. Oin, Balin, Bofur, and Nori had been the first to respond, converging on the room before Bilbo’s scream had even ended.

“Just a nightmare,” Balin told Thorin as he sat back down at the dining table. “The poor laddie has had a rather rough past few weeks.” He didn’t miss Thorin’s clenched jaw as his captain turned away. “It was not his fault, Thorin.”

“He climbed into the rafters,” Thorin growled. “He could have gotten himself killed up there.”

“From what I saw Bilbo has excellent balance,” Balin said. Grabbing the string of the tea bag, he swirled the drink around. “I believe Nori’s sudden movement surprised him and he fell back off the rafters.”

“What made the fool climb up there in the first place?” Thorin demanded. “That is no place to be playing around in.”

“Thorin,” Balin addressed, giving Thorin a meaningful look. “These steel doors are not exactly sound-proof. He must have heard what we were saying last night and felt hurt.”

“That was no excuse for him to climb into the rafters,” Thorin said.

“It was his only excuse,” Bain corrected. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you not hear what he told Dori? Bilbo thinks we do not want him on the ship anymore.” At a look from Thorin he blanched. “Thorin, you cannot be serious? Just this morning you were willing to give him a second chance.”

“That was before he made a foolish move,” Thorin said. Crossing his arms, he shook his head. “What if Nori had not been quicker, Balin? What if the Halfling had fallen to his death?”

“That is no reason to condemn him,” Balin said desperately. “Bilbo is a single Hobbit surrounded by Dwarves he believes hate him.” Thorin turned away from his old friend and made his way toward the stairs. “Thorin, please, let him have one more chance.”

“He had his chances,” Thorin growled. “He is to stay in his room from now on.”

“Thorin,” Balin called, but Thorin ignored him as he made his way to the cockpit.

Fili turned in his seat at his uncle’s arrival. Kili’s head popped up from the lower deck, his face fell, and he ducked back down. Thorin walked up behind Fili, leaning forward to examine a screen. The blinking dots on the green screen meant next to nothing to him.

“We’ve just entered Bree’s atmosphere,” Fili told his uncle. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. “We’re supposed to dock in the forest for the night. We can head to the village tomorrow morning.”

“Alright,” Thorin said. “Get us down there safely then head to bed. I do not want any more trouble tonight.”

“How is Bilbo?” Kili asked from the lower level. He withered under Thorin’s cold gaze. “I-I just wanted to know . . .”

“He is healing,” Thorin said. “Oin has diagnosed a dislocated wrist and a concussion.”

“Will he be alright?”

“He will be fine,” Thorin said. Turning, he left the cockpit before either of his nephews could ask him any more questions. The Halfling was causing far too much trouble for Thorin’s liking. He’d be lucky if the Dwarf didn’t space him before they reached Rivendell. Thorin descended the stairs to find Balin gone from the dining table, having already retired to his bedroom.

Thorin sighed as he headed down the hall to prepare for sleep. Balin was right in some respects, he had to admit, Bilbo had never asked for this to happen to him. He was just a victim in an unwanted situation.

O.o.O

The next time Bilbo awoke it was with a clear head and no nightmares. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and pushed himself upright, wincing at the ache in his body. His left wrist was filled with a dull throbbing ache. A glance down showed him it had been wrapped with clean white bandages littered with Khuzdul runes. The familiar tingling sensation told Bilbo it had been repaired by Oin with medical mites.

A vague memory of Nori grabbing his hand flashed through Bilbo’s mind and he shook his head. The motion made his head spin and he stopped. All he could remember was Nori grabbing his hand, a pain searing through his wrist, and something struck him on the head. After that it was all black. Except for the part where Thorin roared at him, demanding to know what he was thinking, that would be burned into his brain forever.

Laying back down in the bed, it took Bilbo several seconds to notice he was not in the medical bay as he had assumed. Someone had laid him out on a plastic mattress that creaked with every move he made. Crisp sheets had been pulled over him and his head was propped on a cushioning pillow. The walls of the room were a bare beige color, reminding Bilbo of his Uncle Isembard’s smial. Then something else struck him. The ship wasn’t rumbling as it usually did. The familiar vibrations were gone, the walls still and a numb empty feeling ran through Bilbo. He had grown so used to the vibrations that now he was sad they were gone.

They must have landed. Bilbo bolted upright in his bed, ignoring the protesting ache of his body. They had landed on Bree. He could leave the ship now and none of the Dwarves would be none the wiser. In fact, they would probably be happy he had decided to get off on Bree. They would have to deal with the trouble he was causing them.

Slipping eagerly from the bed, Bilbo hurried through to the door and cracked it open just a bit. No voices carried down the hall from the dining area. Only the sounds of snores seeped from the rooms around him. The Dwarves were all asleep in their bedrooms. This couldn’t have been more perfect for Bilbo.

The Hobbit tiptoed from his bedroom, down the hall, and into the dining area. With no signs of a Dwarf to be seen, he hurried down the stairs into the cargo bay and to the door. Within the large cargo bay doors had been built a small one for the simple use of entering and leaving the ship without having to lower the ramp. The door was easy enough to open, albeit it was slightly heavier than Bilbo was used to. Stepping out of the ship, Bilbo inhaled the fresh air happily. He was finally free.

O.o.O

A single obnoxious tone from the sensors caused Kili to look up from the puzzle book he was writing in. Leaning forward, he frowned at the flickering screen. The cargo bay’s door had been opened. But that couldn’t be right. No one was awake at this hour except for Kili, and that was only because he wasn’t tired like the rest of them.

“Who would be crazy enough to go for a stroll at this?” Kili wondered aloud to himself. It was the middle of the night, everyone should have been in bed.

Pondering the thought, Kili hurried from the cockpit and down two flights of stairs through dining room. The cargo bay was void of anything save for the few crates of supplies littered around. The smaller door, though, had been left wide open. Kili nearly flew down the stairs in his rush to examine the scene. He was just in time to see a familiar curly head disappear into the forest.

“Bilbo!” Kili shouted, leaping out of the ship and racing toward the forest. The figure paused just inside the tree line, turned to see Kili, and then fled further into the woods. “Bilbo, wait!” Kili tore after the Hobbit as fast as his feet could carry him. Bilbo had broken out into a run, speeding away from Kili like a rocket. Kili pumped his legs and leaned forward in an attempt to gain speed. Hobbits may have been quick on their feet but Dwarves had the weight to speed themselves along.

The moment he was within range Kili launched himself at Bilbo. The Dwarf and Hobbit were sent sprawling to the forest floor. Bilbo scrambled to regain his footing but Kili wrapped his arms around the Hobbit’s legs, tripping him again. They lay panting on the ground for several seconds before Kili finally spoke.

“What . . .” he said, winded by the shot sprint. “Were you _thinking_? It’s dangerous to be out here alone.”

“I was thinking I could get to the village,” Bilbo told him through his gasps.

“Why would you do that? We’re going to the village tomorrow.”

“Because Thorin wouldn’t have let me go,” Bilbo said. He shoved against Kili who surrendered his hold on the Hobbit’s legs. Together they stood, Kili keeping a wary eye on the Hobbit.

“But why did you want to go to the village tonight?” Kili asked again. Bilbo hesitated to answer for a moment and the words he spoke twisted Kili’s stomach into a knot.

“Because you don’t want me on your ship. I thought if I could find my way to the village then I could find my way back to Hobbiton.” Kili stared at Bilbo for a full minute before he scowled.

“How stupid are you?” he asked Bilbo who looked surprised at the statement. “The village is in the other direction. Besides, it’s miles away from here. You would have had to hike through the forest for the entire night to reach it.” Bilbo’s look of surprise turned to one of embarrassment as he flushed. “Besides, we’re taking you to Rivendell.”

“And how far away is that?” Bilbo asked. “How much angrier is Thorin going to get at me on our way there?”

“Thorin’s just being an idiot,” Kili protested. “Come back to the ship and we can talk about it.” The sound of a tree crashing to the forest floor caused him to look up and he froze.

“I’m sorry, Kili, but I can’t spend another day on that ship,” Bilbo said. Noticing Kili’s horrified expression he frowned. “Kili, what is it?” Kili raised a shaking finger to point behind Bilbo who turned, his eyes widening in horror.

A monstrous troll towered over the Dwarf and the Hobbit, looking down at them with dull eyes. Bilbo swallowed hard and backed away slowly. The troll’s eyes followed his movement before the thing spoke.

“‘Ere, now,’ it said, causing Kili and Bilbo to jump in surprise. “What’s a Dwarf and a . . .” He looked Bilbo up and down. “An oversized squirrel doin’ out here?”

“N-Nothing,” Bilbo whimpered. “W-We were j-just leaving.” Kili nodded frantically, backing away from the troll with every move he made. The troll advanced on the two, bending down to get a closer look.

“Are there anymore of you hidin’ where you shouldn’t be?” it asked. Its gravelly voice reminded Kili of a rockslide he had once seen on the Blue Mountains.

“No, none,” Bilbo squeaked.

“Liar,” the troll roared. It swung a great paw of a hand down at the Dwarf and Hobbit and they ducked. “Come ‘ere, you!”

“Run!” Kili shouted, tearing off toward the ship. He heard Bilbo’s pattering feet on the forest floor and the crashing of the troll following them. There was the sound of something swinging through the air and Bilbo’s scream rang through the air.

“Bilbo!” Kili shouted helplessly. He spun around to see the small creature clutched upside down in the troll’s fist. Bilbo’s eyes fell on him, pleading for his help, but Kili could do nothing. His weapons were back on the ship along with anyone who could help him. Help, that’s what he needed.

Giving Bilbo what he hoped was a reassuring look, Kili tore back to the ship as quickly as he could. He had to wake the others up before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trolls! I still can't believe how long it took me to get to that part of the story, or how unrelated it was to the original storyline of the Hobbit. :/


	11. Ruses and Roasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you all know, this story has so far reached twenty-one chapters and a prologue. I hope I can get it all posted before the end of the night.

**Ruses and Roasts**

Kili had abandoned him. In the face of danger, and death for that matter, the Dwarf had abandoned Bilbo to the mercy of a troll. Not that the troll had any mercy, from Bilbo’s first impression of the creature. But really, Bilbo could not understand how he kept getting into these kinds of situation. Blast that wizard and his ‘good morning’. Bilbo should have just stayed in his cozy little smial and forgotten all about Gandalf’s wizard. It was a little late to be complaining about wizards, though, when Bilbo was face to face with a monstrous troll.

The troll had Bilbo’s legs in a tight grip as he hung the Hobbit upside down to inspect him. The blood had long ago left Bilbo’s feet, heading straight for his head. Bilbo truly hoped the troll would either kill him or put him upright soon. Either one was fine with him, just so long as he didn’t feel the blood rushing to his head anymore.

“What are ya?” the troll asked Bilbo, shaking him. Bilbo winced as his teeth were jarred in his skull.

“I-I’m a Hobbit,” he said in a shaky voice. The troll snorted and brought him closer to stare into his face.

“What’s a . . . Hobbit?” he asked. Bilbo coughed as the troll snorted again. Its breath was horrendous, smelling of rotting things and bad food. “Can we eat it?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said quickly before he changed his mind. “No! No, you may not!”

“Not much meat on ya,” the troll said, poking Bilbo in the chest. Bilbo winced at that. The troll must have had no sense of its strength. “Are there any more of ya hidin’ around here?”

“Nope, none,” Bilbo said. “Besides, you can’t eat us Hobbits. You would die.” The troll snorted at that, a look of shock on his face.

“Why not?”

“Because, uh, our Mother will get mad at you,” Bilbo said. When the troll frowned he nodded seriously. “Oh yes, our Mother loves us very dearly. If anyone ever attacks us all we have to say is ‘Mother, help us’ and she will send her guards to rescue us.”

“Guards?” the troll repeated, a hopeful tone in his voice. “We could eat them.” Bilbo’s heart sank at that.

“Oh no, you don’t want to do that,” he said quickly. “You really wouldn’t want to chance it. They’d give you terrible indigestion. I wouldn’t risk it.”

“Why not?” the troll asked in a suspicious voice. Bilbo had to rack his brain for an answer. He could sense the troll was starting to not believe him.

“Because they’re made of stone,” Bilbo told the troll. The dizziness in his head was growing from hanging upside down too long. “Not to mention it wouldn’t kill them and they would only kill you from the inside out.” The troll snorted at him again then turned, moving with crashing footsteps through the forest.

“Wait, where are you taking me?” Bilbo asked, his panic rising. “Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Ya’ll bring us food,” the troll said. “Or we’ll eat ya.”

“Oh blast it.”

O.o.O

Kili was not going to abandon Bilbo if his life depended on it. He would take on the troll single-handedly if he had to, even if it was with only his bow and arrows. There was no way in the universe he was leaving Bilbo to die and be eaten by a troll.

The forest’s docking station had been built in a clearing in the forest. Very few ships went there during their day, using it only at night as a place to rest until morning. The actual village of Bree was notorious for closing its gates at dusk and only opening them at dawn. The docking station itself was essentially nothing more than a paved square of space decorated with a white and red bulls-eye.

Kili flew out of the tree line and into the clearing of the docking station. The ship was just where he had left it with its door wide open. When Kili had first seen the ship he had told Thorin it looked like a beetle with a tumor on its head instead of antennae. Thorin had been less than pleased with the statement and Kili had been stuck scrubbing floors for a month. _The Arkenstone_ was clearly not to be insulted.

Leaping through the door, Kili landed gracelessly on the floor and took off up the cargo bay stairs to the second floor. There was a moment in the dining room when he tripped over a chair someone had left pulled out. Kili cursed loudly, not caring if anyone heard him now. He needed everyone awake and now. Pounding down the hall, he skidded to a stop outside Thorin’s bedroom door and thumped his fist against it repeatedly.

“Thorin! Thorin! Thorin! Thorin! Thorin!” Kili shouted over and over again until the door was wrenched open. His uncle stood before him, a livid expression on his face. “Trolls!” Kili said before he jumped to the door next to him. “Dwalin! Balin! Dwalin! Balin!” he shouted, pounding on the door. Strong hands grabbed his arms and jerked him back from the door.

“What in Durin’s name are you talking about?” Thorin growled at his nephew. Kili twisted in his uncle’s grip until he was released. Whirling to face Thorin, Kili did the one thing his family hated most. He talked fast and expected everyone to understand him.

“Bilbo ran out into the forest when he woke up so I chased him to try and stop him but then we were attacked by a troll and it grabbed Bilbo but I didn’t have anything to fight it with so I came back here as quickly as I could.”

“Kili, slow down,” Thorin ordered, clapping a hand on Kili’s shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Kili explained slower.

“I chased Bilbo into the forest,” he said. The door behind him opened and a bleary-eyed Balin stepped out. “And a troll attacked us. We tried to run away but it grabbed Bilbo.”

“So you ran back here to get help,” Thorin finished. Kili nodded eagerly. He watched Thorin’s expression, waiting for the verdict.

“Thorin.” Thorin’s gaze shifted over Kili’s expression to Balin. Kili could never thank his uncle for what happened next.

“WAKE UP!” Thorin roared. “ATTACK! GRAB YOUR WEAPONS!” _Thumps_ echoed through the sleeping quarters as Dwarves leapt out of bed and threw on their boots, grabbing their weapons. Thorin squeezed Kili’s shoulder. “Go get your brother, Bofur, and Bifur.”

Nodding, Kili fled from the sleeping quarters to the dining room and up to the third floor. He didn’t hesitate to grab Bifur’s door, the closest to the engine room, and kick it open.

“Wake up,” he shouted down the hatch. “Bilbo’s in trouble!” A furious should in Khuzdul carried up through the doorway and Kili leapt to Bofur’s door, doing the same thing there. Fili had already woken up and was climbing out of his room with his twin swords strapped to his back when Kili raced to his own room.

“What’s going on, Kili?” Fili asked.

Kili ignored him as he kicked his door open and launched himself through the hatch. Thorin was always telling him he was going to break an ankle one day. But right now, Kili couldn’t have cared less. He grabbed his bow, a quiver of arrows, and his sword. Clambering back up the ladder, he found Bofur, Bifur, and Fili waiting for him.

“What happened ta Bilbo?” Bofur asked Kili who was already flying back down the stairs. Footsteps followed him down and he led the way to the cargo bay.

Thorin had gathered the other Dwarves near the door, trying to answer their demands. Only Balin and Dwalin were silent beside him. Seven faces turned to Kili as he threw himself down the stairs. Kili only came to a halt once he had reached the crew.

“Why are we still standing here?” he asked Thorin. “We need to save Bilbo.”

“Bilbo?” Nori repeated. “What happened to him?”

“Isn’t he in his room?” Dori asked.

“No,” Balin said seriously. “I checked it before coming down here. His room is empty, just as young Kili said.”

“Then what happened?” Ori asked. Kili groaned and fisted his hair.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” he said. “We don’t have time to stand around and talk. We have to save Bilbo before the troll eats him.”

“What troll?” Dwalin asked suspiciously. “We’re not goin’ anywhere until you tell us what’s goin’ on.”

“Fine, but this is the fast version,” Kili said. Fili frowned and crossed his arms, watching his younger brother intently. Fast versions were usually useless to anyone. “Bilbo ran away. I ran after him. We got attacked by a troll. It grabbed Bilbo. I came back here to get help. End of story.” He looked around at the surrounding Dwarves. “Well?”

Thorin stepped aside from blocking the door. “Lead the way,” he said.

Kili darted out the door, twelve other Dwarves close behind him. They raced into the tree line and through the forest. The trees blurred together as Kili ran, praying Bilbo would still be alive when they reached him. It wasn’t until they reached the last place Kili had seen the troll and Bilbo that he stopped. The other Dwarves slowed down, looking around themselves.

“Well, where is it?” Dori asked. “I don’t see any trolls.”

“Kili, if this was one of your stories,” Thorin began, but Kili cut him off.

“I’m not making this up, Thorin,” he said hurriedly. “There was a troll here and it grabbed Bilbo. What else could have torn up the trees like that?” He pointed at the uprooted trees behind him.

“He does have a point,” Balin said. “Perhaps we should split up and try to find the trolls.” A loud sneeze echoed through the forest, causing the younger Dwarves to jump in surprise.

“Or not,” Dwalin growled out. Reaching back, he pulled Grasper and Keeper from their harness. “Let’s take them on.”

“Wait,” Thorin said, holding up a hand. “If we take them on now they might kill Bilbo. We need to approach quietly and see what is happening.”

“Fine,” Dwain said. “But I’m takin’ out a troll the first chance I get.”

“Fair enough,” Thorin said. “Now let’s move.”

Kili was close behind his uncle as they made their way quietly through the forest. A flickering light in the distance caught his eye. Slowly, with every step they took, it grew closer and closer until he heard voices. They were harsh voices, speaking like rocks clashing against each other. Both confusion and anger were clear in the voices.

“What do you mean we can’t eat it, Bert?” one troll asked in a nasally voice.

Crouching behind a fallen log, Thorin motioned for the rest of the crew to do the same. Kili knelt down but kept his eyes glued on the clearing. Three trolls stood around a fire, logs and boulders behind them acting as chairs. A large cauldron sat over the blazing fire, bubbling quietly. It was Bilbo, though, that Kili’s eyes focused on. The Hobbit was clutched in a troll’s great hand as it showed him to the others.

“Because, Bill,” the first roll – Bert – said. “It said so.”

“And why is you listenin’ to somethin’ we can eat?” the third troll asked.

“Yeah, Tom’s right,” Bill, or William as he was better known, said. “Why are you listenin’ to the food instead of eatin’ it?”

“It said it can brin’ more food,” Bert said. “Just by sayin’ a few words.”

“I didn’t say I would bring you more food,” Bilbo’s voice rang across the clearing. Thorin looked to Kili who swallowed hard. “I said if you hurt me my Mother would said guards to rescue me.” The words echoed through Kili’s mind and a plan began to form.

“And who’s yer . . . Mother?” Bert asked with a sniff. He poked Bilbo in the chest again and Bilbo winced. “If yer lyin’ I’ll ‘old ya over the fire.”

“I’m not lying,” Bilbo insisted desperately.

Kili leaned over to whisper his plan to Fili. His older brother gave him a look as if to ask ‘are you mad?’ Kili nodded to Gloin who crouched beside his brother. Leaning over, Fili whispered the plan to him. Kili shifted on the ground as he quietly drew his sword. Behind him the plan was making its way through the crew.

“Then who’s yer Mother?”

“Sh-She is everywhere,” Bilbo said. “She is great and beautiful. Her radiance makes the crops grow and the birds sing. Without her, there would be no day or night.”

“He’s talkin’ in riddles, he is,” Tom said.

“Ah, I never liked riddles,” William pouted out. “Never have.”

“Shut up, ya two,” Bert snapped at the other trolls. Turning back to Bilbo, he growled. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Bilbo asked.

“You know what I mean,” Bert said. Bilbo squealed in surprise as he suddenly found himself hung upside down once more. “Say it!”

Thorin was the last to hear of the plan. Kili felt him stiffen and prepare to object, but it was too late. Kili had already made up his mind.

“M-Mother,” Bilbo stuttered out from his position in the air. “Help me.”

O.o.O

Bilbo wasn’t sure which was worse: the prospect of dying from the blood rushing to his head or these three trolls’ names. Bert, William, and Tom. Never before had he heard such terrible names in his life. Unless he counted his mother and her sisters: Belladonna, Donnamira, and Mirabella. What _had_ his grandfather been thinking? Whatever it was Gerontius Took was thinking Bilbo would never know. At that moment he was too busy uttering those ridiculous words. He couldn’t believe how stupid he would feel if no one came to rescue him, stupid and dead.

“M-Mother, help me.”

Bilbo half expected nothing to happen. He expected the clearing to remain quiet and for the trolls to snort again and hold him in the fire. He expected to die a painful and hot death, remaining forgotten to his cousins and family on Hobbiton.

He was not, however, expecting Kili to dash out of the trees and slice his sword through William’s foot. The smallest troll howled in pain, hopping up and down as he clutched his foot. Kili gave him one final stab before turning to Bert and Tom.

“Drop him,” he said in a very clear voice. Bilbo’s heart thudded against his chest at the sight of Kili gripping his sword tightly.

“You what?” Bert demanded.

“I said,” Kili said, swinging his sword in a complete circle at his side. “Drop him.” Bert roared and threw Bilbo at Kili who caught him in surprise, sending both Dwarf and Hobbit to the ground. Bilbo was aware of the Dwarf hugging him close as several pairs of boots thundered past him.

“Sorry,” Kili said just before he tossed Bilbo to the side and scrambled to his feet. Bilbo yelped and glared at the Dwarf’s retreating back. He didn’t know what exactly Kili was apologizing for. The fact that he had just thrown Bilbo aside or that he had abandoned Bilbo in his greatest time of need. Bilbo made a mental note to ask him later.

The Dwarves, it turned out, where much better at fighting together than they were at living on a ship. Not once did they ever trip over another in their fight or bump into each other. If one Dwarf found himself in a bit of a fix then another was immediately there to rescue him. At one point Nori’s head had been seized in the hand of William. Ori shot the troll in the eye with his slingshot before turning and running away from the roaring troll only to be seized by another. Dwalin threw himself off the cauldron to roll onto all fours, allowing Thorin to leap off his back and slice at the troll’s arm. Ori was dropped with another howl from the troll.

Bilbo could only smile in disbelief at the sight before him. The Dwarves truly were an amazing people. His smile vanished when Bert’s eyes fell on him. Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo tried to run away, but he was too slow. The trolls hand closed around him and he was dragged back off the ground. Another set of hands joined the first and Bilbo found himself hanging in the air once more, this time with his arms and legs gripped in unrelenting hands.

“Bilbo!” Kili shouted.

“No!” Thorin grabbed his nephew before he could do anything stupid.

“Lay down your arms,” Bert ordered the Dwarves as he and Tom clutched Bilbo. “Or we’ll rip ‘is off.”

Bilbo stared down at Thorin, his chest heaving in terror. Would Thorin abandon him? Allow the trolls to rip him to pieces right there in order for his crew to live? Was Bilbo about to die a more painful death than fire? Thorin glared at him for a second before he did something Bilbo would never forget. The captain of _the Arkenstone_ threw his sword point first into the ground where it stuck there straight up. The other Dwarves threw down their weapons and Bilbo’s heart sank. They were all doomed.

The trolls were quick to nab the Dwarves and tie them in sacks. Bilbo was thrown down next to Thorin where he started wondering if death by quarter and shafting wouldn’t have been a better option. Thorin’s glare was beyond furious. It had reached the red zone, if there was such a thing.

The cauldron was done away with and a spit was constructed in its place. Several of the Dwarves were secured tightly to it with ropes despite their protests. Tom and Bert took up the job of turning the spit while William circled it chuckling.

“Well done, Halfling,” Thorin whispered loud enough for only Bilbo to hear. “Now we are all going to die.” Bilbo’s heart sunk and he started to wonder how he could get them out of this situation.

“Don’t bother cookin’ them,” William was saying. “Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly.”

“They should be sautéed,” Bert argued. “And sprinkled with just a bit of sage.”

“Is this really necessary?” Dori shouted, struggling against his bonds. They held even him, the strongest Dwarf of the crew, captive.

“Hurry up,” Tom shouted to Bert. “I don’t want to be here when the sun rises. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.”

The words pricked at Bilbo’s ears and he perked up. The sky was already beginning to pale behind the hill. Maybe if he kept the trolls distracted long enough the sun would rise and they would all be saved. Struggling to his feet in the sack, Bilbo hopped forward slightly, ignoring Balin’s question aimed at him.

“You are making a terrible mistake,” Bilbo told the trolls. Bert turned his gaze down at him and Tom snorted. “Squashing them into jelly won’t make them taste any better and sage wouldn’t do a thing.”

“What do ya know about cookin’ Dwarf?” Tom asked, but Bert hushed him.

“Let the Hobbit thingy talk,” the other troll said. Bilbo swallowed hard as the three trolls turned their attention back on him. This moment was more terrifying than even the Fell Winter had been.

“You can’t reason with them,” Dori shouted at Bilbo. “They’re halfwits.”

“Halfwits?” Bofur repeated as he was spun around. “What does that make us?”

“W-Well,” Bilbo began, thinking hard.

“Yes?” Bert prodded, abandoning his post at the spit to bend down near Bilbo. “What is it?”

“Y-You have to . . . Bilbo looked over his shoulder at Thorin whose expression had grown furious. “Skin them first!” The Dwarves erupted into furious protests at that. Dwalin even went so far as to threaten Bilbo’s safety when all was said and done. Bilbo swallowed hard, certain the tall Dwarf would stay true to his word.

“That’s rubbish,” Tom said. “I’ve eaten plenty of Dwarves with their skins on.”

“Ah, you see, those weren’t these kinds of Dwarves, though,” Bilbo said, thinking quickly. “These Dwarves aren’t made from stone like they usually are. They’re from diamond, which means you’d have to skin them before you even had the chance to eat them.”

Tom made a face at that. “Liar,” he growled. “He’s tryin’ to distract us.”

“From what?” William asked. “There’s no one in this forest but us.”

“No one to ‘ear ya scream,” Bert added, prodding Bilbo in the chest once more. Bilbo winced at that. Bert had just reached out to grab at Bilbo when a deep voice rang through the trees.

“The dawn shall take you all!”


	12. Wizards and Wonderings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, right, heads up! I have changed histories around a bit (as you will see in this chapter). And according to Tolkien's books Dwarves actually mature around 40. Sadly I had started writing this story with their maturation age being at 72 so I spoke with my Voice Of Reason (not Castor) and she told me I could just stick to 72 for my sanity's sake. So there you have it!

**Wizards and Wonderings**

Never before had Kili seen a human look so shocked. Well, except for that time on the Blue Mountains when he and Fili decided to set up a prank for their uncle in the marketplace. That hadn’t ended very well. In fact, none of their pranks ever did. Fili and Kili usually ended up being punished for a week doing chores around the house or ship. Kili supposed it was partially their fault their mother had started to gray early on in life, not to mention their uncle’s permanent scowl on his face.

“My mother says it’s rude to stare,” Kili told Agent Smith. The Man’s mouth snapped shut and he swallowed hard.

“You allowed the Hobbit to be attacked by trolls?” the Man asked in a strained voice. He had long since dropped his proper stance with the Dwarf.

“I didn’t exactly plan that,” Kili said. “There’s no telling when you could be attacked by trolls. So no, not really. I didn’t _allow_ him to be attacked by a troll. It just sort of happened.”

“Yet you allowed the Hobbit’s life to be put in danger,” Agent Smith said. Kili scowled at him, wishing he could cross his arms.

“Weren’t you listening to me?” he demanded. “I went and got help.”

“And in the meantime Bilbo could have been killed,” Agent Smith pointed out. Kili groaned and let his head hit the wall behind him. How thick could this Man be?

“Get used to it,” he finally said. “Because that wasn’t the first time it happened. It wasn’t even the first time Bilbo saved the crew, either.”

“Then the one who saved you in the end wasn’t Gandalf?” Agent Smith asked.

“Oh no, it was,” Kili said. Pulling his legs up onto the bed, he settled back. “But that is a story for someone else to tell.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like your attitude.” The Man scowled at him for that and Kili chuckled to himself. He watched as Agent Smith stood, grabbed his stool, and left the cell. A guard entered a second later to release Kili from his handcuffs. The Dwarf laid back on his bed, resisting his head on his arms.

“Hang in there, Bilbo,” he whispered.

O.o.O

They called him _hakhakhith_. Its literal meaning was ‘young dog’, though they meant to say ‘puppy’. He was gentle and playful, getting along with every person he met. The children loved to greet him every day. Their hopes of a new toy, even a sweet, were never dashed by the laughing miner. And then the Orc had come, driving the head of an axe into his skull. The healers had said they couldn’t remove the weapon without either further damaging or killing him. Sad looks in their eyes, his cousins had left the ax-head in and had tried to move on as if nothing had happened.

They called him _kah’i_. It meant wolf. They said he was wild, uncontrollable, and unpredictable. No longer did the children flock to him for toys. No longer did he hike down into those mines he had always hated with his cousin. No longer did Bofur and Bombur laugh with him. They only gave him sad looks, shook their heads, and moved on with life.

The ache of the ax-head in his skull had long since faded away. He wouldn’t have noticed it anymore if it weren’t for the petrified looks he received from strangers. They would look to Bofur for help, whisper behind their hands when they thought he wasn’t listening. He hated how they treated him. Everyone treated him differently until the Hobbit had come along. Bilbo had changed everything on that ship.

Bifur watched from his seat at the table as the agent entered the room. He had heard from the other Dwarves they were telling the Man the entire story of how they had found Bilbo and reclaimed Erebor. From what Bifur understood Kili had been the last Dwarf the Man had spoken to before the end of the day. A new day brought the agent dressed in a cleaned and pressed suit. The agent nodded to him in greeting then gestured someone in. Bofur waltzed in behind the agent, his hands cuffed behind him.

“Hiya, Bif,” Bofur said jovially, ignoring a jab from the guard behind him. Bifur straightened up in his seat. His hands jerked against the handcuffs locked to the table.

 _‘Cousin, what are you doing here?’_ Bifur signed in Iglishmek to his cousin.

“They decided ya needed a translator,” Bofur said as he was pushed into a chair across from his cousin. The agent seated himself beside the grinning Dwarf, setting a pile of papers on the table.

 _‘Nori?’_ Bifur signed, but Bofur shook his head just a bit and he stopped. The agent looked between the cousins suspiciously before clearing his throat.

“Oh, right, Bif,” Bofur said, nodding to the Man beside him. “This is Agent Smith. He’s been talkin’ ta all of us about Bilbo.”

 _‘Is Bilbo alright?’_ Bifur asked. His face fell when Bofur shrugged.

“Gentlemen,” Agent Smith said. The cousins turned to him and he flushed slightly. “I-I suggest we start now. Bifur, if you would be so kind as to speak to your cousin he will he translate for you.

“ _Fair enough,_ ” Bifur growled in Khuzdul. Agent Smith turned to Bofur who shrugged.

“He said ta go ahead,” Bofur said. Bifur scowled. His cousin had a habit of translating what he said into his own words. Curse Bofur to the Halls of Waiting if he screwed this up!

“Alright,” Agent Smith, shuffling the papers on the table. “Bifur, I believe you worked in the mines with your cousin in the Blue Mountains?” Bifur nodded at that. “And he tells me you were injured by an Orc.” Bofur stiffened beside the agent and his eyes flicked between the Man and his cousin.

“ _We were ambushed by Orcs in the forest,_ ” Bifur said in Khuzdul. “ _I was hunting with some friends._ _I was the only one who survived._ ”

“Uh, he says yes,” Bofur said. Bifur kicked him under the table and his cousin yelped in surprise. “Alright! Alright! He was huntin’ in the woods when he was ambushed by Orcs. They killed all his friends.”

“ _Someday I will return this ax to the Orc who gave it to me,_ ” Bifur said, motioning to the ax head embedded in his skull. Bofur blinked at him before speaking.

“Yeah, I’m not translatin’ that.”

“ _Translate it!_ ” Bifur demanded.

“No!” Bofur protested.

“ _Tell him!_ ”

“He doesn’t need ta know that!”

“ _You are a terrible translator. I hope they fire you._ ”

“They’re not even payin’ me!”

“Please, gentlemen,” Agent Smith, trying to gain control of the situation. The bickering Dwarves quieted down with Bifur glaring at his cousin. “Please translate for me what your cousin says.”

“Alright, fine, but don’t blame me,” Bofur warned the Man. “He said some day he’s goin’ ta return the ax ta the Orc who gave it ta him.”

Agent Smith blinked once. “You’re right,” he said. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“ _Then you are terrible at interrogating,_ ” Bifur snarled at the Man. “ _You should be demanding to know everything I could possibly know about the Hobbit. Where are the torture devices? The thumb screws? A rack, at least._ ” Bofur stared at him.

“I am _not_ translatin’ that!”

“ _In fact, this whole ship of yours is terrible. Your engine makes a strange clicking sound on every fourth rotation it makes. By the sound of it you have placed a piece in there that does not belong. If that is the case then you undoubtedly have a useless engineer on your hands and you need to space him immediately, or at least fire him._ ”

“What did he say?” Agent Smith asked Bofur who was slowly turning red in the face from trying to contain his laughter.

“He’s . . .” Bofur snickered, unable to talk until Bifur kicked him again. “He’s insultin’ yer engine.” Agent Smith groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, if ya want ta hear anythin’ interstin’ ya should just ask him about Bilbo.”

“That may be a good idea,” Agent Smith conceded. “I spoke with Kili last. He left off with the attack of the trolls.”

“ _That was the day I discovered Bofur did not have the balls it takes to attack a troll,_ ” Bifur growled in Khuzdul and Bofur flushed red with anger.

“I do too have the balls ta fight a troll,” Bofur argued, standing from his chair. Bifur tried to stand too but was pulled back down by the handcuffs. “We were outnumbered!”

“ _There were three of them and thirteen of us!_ ”

“I’m pretty sure three trolls count as more than just three. They’ve got ta be at least four a piece!”

“Gentlemen!”

“ _Twelve, then, twelve against thirteen and we still lost._ ”

“That’s not the point! They had Bilbo. They would have killed him.”

“ _You should have hammered them in with that mattock of yours, not stood around crying about your hangnail like a little lass._ ”

“Hey, hangnails hurt! AND I WASN’T CRYIN’! I WAS FIGHTIN’ JUST LIKE YA!”

“GENTLEMEN!” Bifur and Bofur both turned to the red-faced Man. Agent Smith took a deep breath and gave them a strained smile. “Bofur, please sit down. Bifur, please continue the story without angering your cousin.” Grumbling, Bofur returned to his seat. Bifur glared at him.

“ _I still would have beaten you with my hands cuffed to the table._ ”

“Shut up.”

“Bifur, Bofur.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Bifur growled. Straightening in his seat, he continued the tale from where Kili had left off. “ _Bilbo had been brave up until that point of our journey. He never cried when Oin healed him. He laughed in the face of danger . . ._ ”

“That’s not how it goes!”

O.o.O

“Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat him too?”

A boulder atop the hill cracked in two and sunlight streamed through. There was a moment of silence in the clearing before it danced over the trolls’ skin. Their howls of fury and pain echoed through the trees. The trolls writhed in their stances, stone crawling across the skin from where the sunlight had touched them. In a short time three statues stood where the trolls had been.

Relieved laugher erupted from the Dwarves on the spit. Thorin relaxed against the ground, the thudding of his heart calming down in his chest. He watched Bilbo as the Hobbit swayed in the spot then fell to his knees. How could a weak creature like that have defeated the trolls so easily? _But he didn’t_ , a small voice in the back of Thorin’s mind said. _He did._ Thorin looked to the hill to see a familiar silhouette.

Lifting his staff off the ground, Gandalf strode with purpose down the hill. He made quick work of extinguishing the fire and releasing the bound Dwarves from the spit and those on the ground from their sacks. Soon Thorin was dressed in his trousers and tunic, pulling on his boots. A shadow fell over him and he straightened up.

“Gandalf,” Thorin said, looking up to the gray-clad wizard. The usual amused twinkle was missing from Gandalf’s eye.

“Where in all of this universe have you been, Thorin Oakenshield?” Gandalf demanded. Thorin frowned. He had never heard the Istari speak in such harsh tones.

“We were in the uncharted Goblin territory,” Thorin said. He spotted Bofur and Nori helping a trembling Bilbo from his sack. The Hobbit was leaning on his friends’ shoulders for support. “Were you looking for us?”

“I believe you know the answer to that question,” Gandalf said wisely. He tapped a stone troll with his staff. “I went to the Blue Mountains but Dis said you had already gone, so I left for the Rivendell for Lord Elrond’s help. Nasty business, this,” he commented, tapping the troll again.

“Why were you looking for me?” Thorin asked stiffly. Gandalf turned a sharp eye on him.

“I have a message for you,” Gandalf said. When Thorin opened his mouth to ask after it, he shook his head. “Not here, not where the wrong set of ears could hear us.”

“How did you know we were out here?” Thorin asked.

“First I saw your ship in the docking station,” Gandalf told him. “I saw Ori disappearing into the forest and followed you.” He turned his gaze back to the trolls. “What were you doing all the way out here? I would have thought you would be wise enough to remain in the ship for the night.”

“We came out to rescue your Hobbit,” Thorin explained. He leapt back in surprise as Gandalf whirled around, the wizard’s staff nearly beaming him in the head.

“What Hobbit?” Gandalf demanded. Thorin motioned for him to turn around and he did. The Istari’s shoulder slumped in relief. “Bilbo Baggins, never before in my life have I been so happy to see a Hobbit.” Bilbo turned around at his name, his face paling.

“Gandalf?” he said softly. Gandalf hurried forward to kneel down and pull Bilbo into a hug. Thorin looked away at the gesture.

“Thank the Valar you are safe,” Gandalf was murmuring to Bilbo who had pressed into the hug. “I am so very sorry you had to go through that.”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo mumbled. “You blasted wizard, I should have never listened to you.”

“I know, Bilbo,” Gandalf said. Standing, he patted Bilbo on the shoulder. “Still, you are in one piece and that is what is important.” Thorin didn’t miss the reassuring squeeze he gave Bilbo’s shoulder before the wizard moved on to speak with Balin. Thorin advanced on the Halfling, Bilbo backing away from him.

“What were you thinking?” Thorin demanded. “That was rash of you to run off into the forest like that without a weapon. You could have been killed.”

“Thorin,” Gandalf’s call caused Thorin to look at him. “Now is not the time to speak to Bilbo about that. Let him be.” Thorin opened his mouth to argue but Gandalf’s glare warned him against it. Grumbling, Thorin allowed Nori and Bofur to lead Bilbo away from him.

“Odd,” Gandalf said, returning to his conversation with Balin. “I have never seen trolls this far out in the galaxy before.”

“They must have come from a nearby planet,” Balin suggested. “I have heard of trolls stowing away on ships in order to move to new lands.”

“The only closest planet they could have come from would be the Etenmoors,” Gandalf said. Thorin frowned at that. “And they cannot move in daylight.”

“Then there must be a troll cave nearby,” Thorin suggested.

“Of course,” Gandalf breathed. “It would need to be nearby for this use.”

“Fili, take the rest of the crew back to the ship,” Thorin ordered. His nephew looked crestfallen at the prospect but nodded. “Dwalin and Balin are to remain with me.” The crew filtered through the trees and Thorin turned back to Gandalf.

“Where do you propose we begin searching?” he asked.

“The nearby hills will have some caves,” Gandalf said, and he set off toward the hill he had just come down from.

Seven hills and fourteen minutes later they had found the troll hoard. The stench of rotting meat rose up from the entrance, causing Thorin to breathe through his mouth. Gandalf led the way down into the cave with the three Dwarves close behind him. Thorin gaped at what was before him: piles of gold and silver, goblets and crown. Everything a Dwarf could have possibly wanted. The glittering hilt of a sword caught his attention and Thorin stepped carefully over the treasure to pull it free. Unsheathed, the sword was a glittering silver, curved on one end and straight on the other.

“These were made by no troll,” Thorin said softly. Gandalf walked up beside him and pulled another sword free.

“Nor any smith among men,” Gandalf added. He unsheathed the sword slightly and his eyebrows rose. “These were made in the First Age by the high Elves of Gondolin.” When Thorin made to toss the sword he was holding aside the wizard frowned. “You could not ask for a finer blade.” Begrudgingly, Thorin strapped the sword to his back along with his ax.

“Dwalin, Balin, let us go,” Thorin ordered. He spotted Gandalf bending over to pick something up off the ground.

“What about the treasure?” Dwalin asked eagerly.

“Take only what we need,” Thorin said. “Leave the rest for someone else to find.” He left the brothers to gather treasure as he made his way in the direction of the ship. “We stop in Bree to pick up supplies then leave.”

O.o.O

Gandalf and Bilbo sat on the gangway of the cargo bay, their legs hanging over the edge. The Dwarves had long since left to visit the village and gather supplies. Bilbo’s arms rested on the lower rung of the railing, his chin resting on them. Gandalf seemed to be lost in thought until at last the wizard spoke.

“I truly am sorry, Bilbo,” Gandalf said sadly. “I never meant for you or your kin to be attacked. I wished nothing but safety for you.” Bilbo didn’t answer and Gandalf squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “I will tell their families when I return to the Shire system next.”

“Which will be soon,” Bilbo said, looking up to the wizard. Seeing Gandalf’s hesitation he frowned. “We are retuning, aren’t we?”

“Sometime,” the wizard said evasively. “In the near future, hopefully.”

“Gandalf, I cannot spend another minute on this ship,” Bilbo said. “Thorin hates me.”

“Hate is a rather strong word,” Gandalf said. He chuckled at Bilbo’s expression. “One must understand Thorin before they understand why he treats them in such ways.”

“Your riddles are getting more ridiculous by the year,” Bilbo muttered, returning to staring down at the cargo bay floor.

“That was not a riddle,” Gandalf said, humor in his voice. “I was being completely honest. From what you have told me about Thorin’s treatment of you I can only surmise he has likened you to Frerin.”

“Who?” Bilbo asked in confusion. He saw Gandalf’s hesitation to continue, but still the wizard pressed on.

“Frerin was Thorin’s younger brother,” Gandalf told the Hobbit. At Bilbo’s puzzled expression he smiled sadly. “Frerin died on the fields of Azanulabizar at the age of seventy-one.”

“I thought Dwarves reached maturity at seventy-two,” Bilbo said in confusion.

“They do,” Gandalf agreed. “Frerin was rather rash for a Dwarf. He always wanted to be like his older brother, running bravely into battle and earning the glory for his people. I believe Thorin blames himself or the death of his brother. Had he not allowed such thoughts to grow in Frerin’s mind then perhaps his younger brother would still be here today.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” Bilbo asked the wizard desperately. “I’m not rash. I’m not even a Dwarf.”

“And there are days I am thankful for that,” Gandalf said. Bilbo cracked a small smile at him. “I am not sure what it is yet, but there is something within you Thorin sees akin to Frerin.” Bilbo sighed and settled down once more. They were silent for a few minutes before he spoke.

“Are we returning to the Shire system when the Dwarves return?” Bilbo asked Gandalf. “Or do I have to stay here longer?”

“I am sorry, Bilbo,” Gandalf said. “But I will need you to remain on this ship a bit longer before returning to the Shire system.”

“But why?”

Gandalf sighed. “I cannot tell you everything immediately,” he admitted. “But soon you will learn the truth. And when you do, I need you to remain with the Dwarves and ensure that everything works out in the end.”

“What end?” Bilbo asked. “What are you even talking about?”

“All in good time, my dear Hobbit,” Gandalf said. His eyes flicked to Bilbo’s ears and his smile widened. “Bilbo, were you aware you have been speaking Khuzdul to me during this entire conversation?”

“N-No, I didn’t. I’ve never learned Khuzdul in my life.”

“And yet you speak it fluently. It appears you have made some friends during your stay on the ship.” Gandalf’s fingers brushed against Bilbo’s ears and Bilbo felt something being pulled out of his ear. A white translator was held up for him to see. “Bofur must have taken quite a liking to you.”

“I hadn’t even noticed,” Bilbo said, holding out his hand. Gandalf dropped it into his palm and Bilbo inspected the device. “I took them out earlier when I was upset.”

“Thorin?” Gandalf guessed, and Bilbo nodded solemnly. He slipped the translator back into his ear, nearly yelping when Gandalf suddenly grabbed his healing hand. His bandage-wrapped hand was turned carefully over as Gandalf inspected it.

“What happened?” Gandalf asked worriedly. “Thorin did not hurt you, did he?”

“Oh no,” Bilbo said quickly. “When I was upset with the Dwarves I climbed into the rafters. Thorin sent Nori, Fili, and Kili up to get me but Nori surprised me and I fell off. I think he caught me before I could fall too far.”

“You think?” Gandalf repeated with a raised eyebrow. Bilbo flushed.

“I-I don’t actually remember. I blacked out sometime after he caught me.”

“I see,” Gandalf said. He turned his gaze to the opposite wall of the cargo bay and silence fell between the two friends once more.

“Now, about this thing you need my help with . . .”

Gandalf laughed at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, in the actual battle of Azunulbizar Frerin led an army into battle and died that way. I think he was 48. I chose to make him 71 (a year younger than "maturation") and he died a foolish Dwarf for more drama!


	13. Songs and Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reader who told me I had mixed the two fandoms perfectly pointed out quite a few things to me. That the Orcs were Reavers. Gandalf was Mr. Universe. And a few other things I can't remember. I hadn't even noticed I'd done that until they had pointed that out! Kudos to my subconscious.

**Songs and Silence**

“Would ya stop insutlin’ their engines?”

“ _Have you heard the noise they make? That awful screeching sound keeps me awake at night. It rings through the halls and bounces off the walls._ ”

“Of course I hear it. That doesn’t mean I have ta complain about their engines all the time.”

“ _Says the Dwarf who cannot even remember a simple part name._ ”

“I can too!”

“Gentlemen!”

O.o.O

After his discussion with Gandalf on the gangway Bilbo retired to what was now his bedroom. With no one bothering him he took the chance to poke around the room. It was small with a bed in each of the farther corners. The beds themselves had been built with a boxy frame, sliding doors underneath the mattress to allow more storage space. A nightstand built into the wall sat in the middle of the beds, a lamp placed on top of it. Dressers were situated at the end of each bed. There was a single door in the corner Bilbo could only hope led to a bathroom.

Bilbo had just managed to pull himself onto one of the beds – an inch too high for a Hobbit’s comfort – when his bedroom door opened with a slam. Hands grabbed his ankles, yanking him off the bed and causing him to yelp. He was faintly aware of someone throwing him over their shoulder and then his attacker flew out the door once more. Had it not been for the familiar coat he wouldn’t have recognized . . .

“Nori,” Bilbo gasped out, clutching at the Dwarf’s coat. “What are you doing?” Nori hushed him as he hurried from the sleeping quarters and toward the stairs leading to the first level. “Where are you taking me?” Nori sighed and Bilbo waited patiently, bouncing against Nori’s back as they ascended the stairs.

“Dori’s looking for you,” the star-haired Dwarf said.

“Is that a bad thing?” Bilbo asked. The blood rushing to his head was making him rather uncomfortable. Hopefully Nori stopped soon. The floor beneath him shifted from stairs to the grated floor of the first level.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Nori said. He carried Bilbo through the hall, only stopping when they had reached the engine room. Bilbo was lowered from his shoulder to the floor and Nori stood before him, hands on his hips. “I found him, Bofur.” Bofur popped up from behind the engine.

“Great,” the other Dwarf said with a grin. “Did ya run inta Dori at all?”

“Nope, he was finishing up his shopping when I headed back here,” Nori said. “He shouldn’t be here for another few minutes.”

“What on earth are you two talking about?” Bilbo asked in disbelief. “I was perfectly fine in my room.”

“Dori’s lookin’ fer ya,” Bofur said as though it was obvious.

“Yes, I got that,” Bilbo said. “But why is that a problem?” Bofur and Nori looked to each other before Bofur broke out into laughs.

“You’ve never been on the end of one of his makeovers,” Nori muttered. “Why do you think I wear my hair like this?” He pointed to his interesting hairdo. “Dori pinned me down one evening and tested it out on me.” Bofur guffawed at that, falling behind the engine.

“You two are being ridiculous,” Bilbo said in exasperation. “I’m sure Dori is just trying to help.”

“I liked my hair the way it was,” Nori argued. When Bofur didn’t stop laughing he threw a hammer over the engine and Bofur yelped. “Shut _up_! It wasn’t funny!”

“Oi! Don’t throw those at me! Only Bif’s allowed ta do that.”

Rolling his eyes at the friends’ antics, Bilbo slipped back out of the engine room. He passed Fili in the hall on his way to the stairs. The pilot greeted him enthusiastically before scowling at the engine room. Bofur’s laughs had turned into curses as Nori continued to throw things at him.

“Apparently Dori’s looking for me,” Bilbo told him. Fili nodded slowly then headed down for the cockpit. Bilbo continued on his way down the stairs back to his room. Ori was milling around in the dining area, perking up when Bilbo stepped off the last stair.

“There you are, Bilbo!” the young Dwarf said enthusiastically. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You have?” Bilbo said in confusion. “Why?”

“I, uh, I wanted to talk about Hobbit culture,” Ori said slowly. His eyes flicked briefly over Bilbo’s shoulder and the Hobbit stiffened. He didn’t have any time to turn around before strong hands landed on his shoulder. They dragged him backward down the hallway to the sleeping quarters.

“Wh-What’s going on?” Bilbo called, his limbs flailing. “Who’s there? Dori?”

“I cannot believe Nori was trying to hide you from me,” Dori said from behind Bilbo. “He always had been far too immature for his age.” He continued to drag Bilbo down the hall until they had reached the bedroom he shared with his brothers. Bilbo was shoved into the room, the door slamming shut and locking behind him. Dori turned away from the door with a satisfied expression.

“That should keep Nori out for a short while,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. Bilbo shifted uneasily on the spot. “At least until we’re too far along.”

“T-Too far along in what?” Bilbo asked worriedly. He squealed when Dori leapt at him, pulling his tunic off over his head. The Hobbit found himself shoved backward into a chair, his head tilted back over a small table.

“You are beginning to look more and more like a Dwarf with every day that passes,” Dori said unhappily. “I decided it was time I helped you look like a Hobbit again.” He moved to stand behind Bilbo’s head, rolling his sleeves up. “It will help you give Thorin a good impression at dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?” Bilbo repeated. He winced when warm water trickled through his hair. Dori had placed a basin under his head. The Dwarf continued to pour handful of water through his hair and slowly Bilbo relaxed.

“Gandalf has decided to travel with us for a short while,” Dori explained. “With him around Thorin is going to have to treat you more civilly now. That includes joining us at dinner tonight.” He reached to the nightstand for a small bottle which he upended into his hand. The aroma of lavender tickled at Bilbo’s nose as Dori scrubbed the shampoo into his hair.

“Is Thorin still mad at me?” Bilbo asked uneasily.

“If he is, he does not show it,” Dori said. His eyes trailed down to Bilbo’s black and blue torso. “You frightened us last night, little one.”

“I really am sorry about that,” Bilbo said. “I never meant to cause that much trouble with the trolls.”

“I know,” Dori chuckled. “It was not your fault you were captured. That was some quick thinking of yours, though. Where did you learn to think on your feet like that?” He began to rinse Bilbo’s hair out, careful to keep the soap out of the Hobbit’s eyes.

Bilbo shrugged at that. “I have several cousins,” he said. “They always used to get me into trouble when I was younger. I had to think of ways to get out of trouble.” Dori chuckled at that.

“I know the feeling,” the Dwarf said. Grabbing a towel, he slipped it under Bilbo’s head and guided the Hobbit back up. “You would not believe the kind of trouble Nori used to get into on the Blue Mountains.” The towel was used to fluff Bilbo’s hair then abandoned around his shoulders.

“I heard a bit about that,” Bilbo admitted. “But Nori never really went into depth.” Dori’s fingers ran through his hair, tugging it straight out of its curls. His hair had gotten rather out of hand since he had left the Shire system.

“Nori was . . . a thief,” Dori said slowly. “He used to get into all sorts of trouble with the police force back on the Blue Mountains. Would you mind if I cut your hair?”

“Not at all,” Bilbo said. Dori disappeared from his side and he heard the nightstand drawer open. The Dwarf was back quickly, running a comb through the Hobbit’s hair. “Did Nori ever get arrested? Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dori said. There was a gentle _snip_ as he began to trim Bilbo’s hair down to a decent length. “Yes, Nori did manage to get himself arrested plenty of times. He escaped every time, though. I cannot count how many times Dwalin turned up at the house to search for my brother.”

“He was never there?” _Snip_.

“No.” _Snip_. “Nori was smart enough to know not to return home for several days.” _Snip_. “Still, it did sadden me that he avoided us for so long.” _Snip_.

Bilbo frowned at the floor thoughtfully and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. Dori continued to circle him, snipping his hair back until he was content. The towel was removed and folded up carefully to be shaken out later. Bilbo ran a hand through his hair, humming gratefully. It felt wonderful to have his hair back to a reasonable length again.

“Here, use this to clean yourself off,” Dori said, handing Bilbo a washcloth. “I wish I had somewhere you could bathe better but this is all we have right now.”

“Oh that’s quite alright,” Bilbo said as he ran the washcloth down his arms. “It’s just nice to feel clean again.”

“Good,” Dori said with a nod. “Then I hope this will help you feel better.” A brown paper package Bilbo hadn’t seen before was grabbed from the bed. Dori opened it to reveal Hobbit-sized clothes.

“Oh, Dori,” Bilbo gasped. “You didn’t have to.” Dori shook his head, passing the clothes to Bilbo.

“Nonsense,” the Dwarf said. “You have been running around in smugglers’ pants and Ori’s shirt for long enough. Now get dressed and then we will head to dinner.” He turned his back to give Bilbo some privacy to dress. Bilbo gratefully swapped out the trousers he was wearing for a new pair. A shirt was pulled on, buttoned up, and tucked into the trousers, suspenders pulled up over his shoulder. Dori had gone to lengths to find Bilbo a golden waistcoat and plum-colored overcoat that fit the Hobbit perfectly. The Dwarf turned around when Bilbo was finished, casting an appraising look over the Hobbit.

“Thank you, Dori,” Bilbo said honestly. “This is the kindest thing you could have done.”

“It was nothing,” Dori said, fixing Bilbo’s overcoat. “Now you look like a proper Hobbit.” There was a knock on the door, the handle jiggled, and then Nori poked his head in.

“You locked the door, Dori?” he asked. “Really?”

“How else was I supposed to keep you out of here?” Dori asked, his hands on his hips. “I needed some peace and quiet while I helped Bilbo.” Nori stepped into the room, pretending to look around in confusion.

“Where is he, by the way?” Nori asked in faux confusion. “I could have sworn Ori told me you dragged him in here.” Dori shook his head in disbelief and Bilbo had to hide a smile. Nori continued to pretend searching the room until he spotted Bilbo, his surprise too exaggerated to be real. “Dori, where did you find another Hobbit? I thought only Bilbo was here.”

“This is Bilbo, you idiot,” Dori said waspishly, grabbing Bilbo by the shoulder gently. “I just thought he ought to look more like a Hobbit and less like a Dwarf.”

“Well bless me,” Nori said as he clapped his hand to his forehead. “I almost didn’t recognize you there, Bilbo.”

“Of course you did,” Dori muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you dinner is ready,” Nori said, falling back into his relaxed attitude. “You’ve been in here for the last twenty minutes.”

“We’re done here now,” Dori said. “So we might as well head into the dining area. Don’t worry,” he told Bilbo in a hushed whisper. “Gandalf will be there.” Bilbo smiled back to him thankfully. Nori led the pair out of the bedroom and into the dining area where Bilbo could hear the hustle and bustle of the evening. He paused in the hallway, holding his hand up for Bilbo to stop, and Dori groaned.

“Really?”

“Is something wrong?” Bilbo asked Dori who just shook his head.

“Ahem,” Nori cleared his throat. The commotion in the dining area died down as Dwarves supposedly turned to the thief. “I would like to introduce you to our honored guest, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire system.” He stepped aside with a flourish to reveal Bilbo. Bofur grinned at the Hobbit’s makeover while Gloin and Balin nodded appreciatively. Bilbo smiled nervously at each Dwarf who complemented him in their own way until he spotted Thorin. The captain of the ship looked shocked at seeing Bilbo dressed differently. At least it wasn’t the usual scowl he wore.

“Ah, Bilbo, excellent,” Gandalf said. “Now dinner can begin.” He was seated at the head of the table, looking a bit too large to be sitting among Dwarves. Dori guided Bilbo forward to sit in a chair between Balin and himself. Balin patted Bilbo’s knee in greeting then returned to the dinner Bombur had laid out. Bilbo had not seen such fresh food on the ship before: an entire ham, bowls of fruit, rolls, potatoes . . . The list went on and on. Bilbo’s stomach grumbled hungrily and Balin chuckled.

“You best get what you can quickly,” Balin warned Bilbo. “The lads can be a bit rambunctious when they get fresh food.”

“Did you buy all this from Bree?” Bilbo asked curiously. Thorin moved slowly around the dining area until he sat at the other end of the table, flanked by his nephews.

“Aye,” Balin said, a twinkle in his eye. “We used a bit of gold from the troll hoard we found.”

“Troll hoard?”

“Gandalf did not tell you? We found a troll hoard not far from where he froze the trolls. I believe he left you a small chest of gold in your room for when you return to the Shire system. And a little something extra.”

Bilbo never got the chance to ask Balin what that ‘something extra’ was. Thorin nodded to his crew and they fell on the food like a pack of wolves. Bilbo stared wide-eyed at their behavior, completely forgetting about himself until Dori started filling his plate for him.

“Oi,” Nori shouted from down the table. A roll from Bofur hit him on the head. “Bilbo’s a big Hobbit. He can feed himself.”

“He won’t get any food with you lot throwing it about,” Dori countered. “Do you like peaches, Bilbo?” he asked the Hobbit.

“Oh, um, yes,” Bilbo stuttered out. Dori grabbed him a small one and set the plate back down before him. An orange nearly beamed Balin in the head and the old Dwarf scowled at Kili who grinned back. Grabbing his fork and knife, Bilbo dug into the food before him. The Dwarves certainly were rowdy eaters in his book. They spent more time throwing food back and forth between each other than they actually did eating it. Gandalf just sat at the end of the table chuckling to himself over the whole matter.

Bilbo had never eaten at such a wonderful meal. The Dwarves laughed and shouted between each other. They started contests that usually ended in someone covered in food. Dwalin and Nori had a drinking contest several times, never coming out with a single winner unless they argued over it. Multiple times Bifur had to be stopped from stabbing Bofur in the ear with a fork. The one time he succeeded . . .

“OUCH!” Bifur roared with laughter as Bofur threw a fork at him. The food fight escalated until Bilbo was ducking under the table to avoid bits of ham and turkey. He heard silence fall as the Dwarves chugged their drinks and then suddenly they had started a belching contest. Stuffing his knuckles in his mouth, Bilbo tried to hide his laughing. He only reappeared from under the table when Balin nudged him with his foot. The Dwarves had leaned back in their chairs, patting their full bellies and complimenting Bombur on the excellent meal.

“Delicious!”

“Wonderful!”

“The best ya’ve made yet!”

“I wish we could eat like this more often!’

Bombur took each compliment with a small bow and returned to finishing off his plate. Bilbo looked down at his own, a thought popping into his head. He nudged Dori gently and the Dwarf turned to him.

“What should I do with my plate?” he asked sincerely. A hand reached over his shoulder and plucked it form him.

“Don’t worry, Bilbo,” Fili said. “I’ll hand this.” And then suddenly he threw the plate to Kili who caught it before it could hit the ground.

“Fili!” Bilbo cried out. “Kili!” His shouts were ignored as another plat joined the first and Kili threw them to Bifur who caught them in succession on his way to the sink. A few of the other Dwarves had started thumping their silverware on the table then running them against each other.

_Thump, thump, shing, shing._

“Should you really be doing that?” Bilbo asked the Dwarves as they continued with the moves. “You might blunt them.”

“Do ya hear that, lads?” Bofur asked jovially. “He says we’ll blunt the knives.” Bilbo sputtered at him as Kili began singing.

_“Blunt the knives and bend the forks . . .”_

And then Fili was singing as he threw yet another plate from his brother.

_“Smash the bottles and burn the corks . . .”_

The Dwarves’ voices filled the small dining area.

_“Chip the glasses and crack the plates, that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”_

And suddenly Bilbo was trapped in the middle of more Dwarven chaos. Dishes flew around the room and were caught with keen accuracy. Forks were tossed carelessly between Dwarves and a knife almost stabbed Bifur in the head had he not caught it time.

_“Cut the cloth, tread on the fat, leaves the bones on the bedroom mat._

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door!_

_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole,_

_When you’re finished if they are whole, send them down the hall to roll!”_

Bilbo could only watch in utter amazement as dish after dish was washed up by Bifur, dried by Ori, and put back in its place by Nori. Very soon, perhaps too soon, the dining table had been cleared away and the Dwarves were finishing their song.

_“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”_

Bilbo laughed in astonishment. Gandalf’s chuckles echoed throughout the room as the Dwarves clapped each other on the back. They returned to their seats at the table with a comfortable air around them. Bilbo spotted Thorin smiling to himself out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t until Gandalf had cleared his throat that the Dwarves calmed down.

“Gandalf,” Thorin said in his deep voice. “When do you intend to return the Halfling to the Shire system?” The room fell silent and the Dwarves’ smiles slipped from their faces. Gandalf coughed subtly.

“Thorin,” Balin said softly, but Thorin hushed him with a glare.

“Why else would Gandalf have remained on this ship unless he intended that?” he asked.

“I do not know when I will take Bilbo Baggins back,” Gandalf said slowly. Every face turned to him, some a bit more anxious looking than others. “But it will not be today. As to why I remained on this ship . . . well, I am in need of a ride back to Rivendell.”

“That was not our agreement when you asked for a ride on my ship,” Thorin said coolly. Bilbo swallowed hard at that. He remembered Gandalf telling him earlier he would be needed by Thorin and his crew before he returned to the Shire system.

“We made no agreement when I boarded,” Gandalf reminded Thorin. “I came here from Lake-Town with my friend Radagast. He gave me ill news I must in turn take to Lord Elrond on Rivendell.”

“Why couldn’t he take it?” Kili asked curiously, quailing under Thorin’s glare.

“Radagast needed to return to his home in Rhosgobel,” Gandalf explained gently. “The Greenwood has fallen ill with some dark magic and Dol Guldur has been swarmed by dark things.”

“Very well,” Thorin said. “I will take you as far as the Elves are willing to come out and fetch you.”

“Oh I think you will be willing to go further,” Gandalf said with a knowing smile. He winked at Bilbo and the Hobbit’s stomach clenched in anticipation.

“What are you talking about, wizard?”

“I believe it is time you and your kin, Thorin Oakenshiled, took back Erebor.” A silence hung around the table at the words and Thorin’s glare increased.

“There is no way near that planet,” Thorin growled out. “We would be dead before we even reached the Greenwood.”

“But you see, that is where you are wrong,” Gandalf said. “The dragon Smaug has been asleep for far too long. I do not believe even your ship could wake him.”

“There is no way into that mountain,” Balin said. “The front doors were sealed by a cave-in caused by the beast.”

“That was not the only key,” Gandalf reminded the old Dwarf with a twinkle in his eye. A flick of his wrist and a turn of his fingers revealed a stone key. Thorin straightened up at the sight of it.

“Where did you find that?” the captain asked in a hushed voice.

“It was given to me by your father Thrain,” Gandalf said. “For safekeeping until the time came for you to take Erebor. He also left me a map into the mountain.” The map was procured from a pocket. Both items were passed down the table with reverence to Thorin who opened the map and smoothed it out on the table.

“A map into Erebor,” he breathed.

“Yes, the marks speak of a hidden door into the mountain,” Gandalf said. “The location itself may be hidden somewhere on the map, but I do not have the skills to find it. There are others, though, who can.”

Thorin’s eyes flicked up to Gandalf. “You believe Lord Elrond could help us?” he asked.

“I do,” Gandalf said. “And you could pick up supplies there as well before leaving for the quest.”

“It would be hopeless,” Balin said with a shake of his head. “Smaug knows the scent of Dwarf.” Bilbo frowned as his ears picked up a strange sound reverberating off the walls. _Whump, whump, whir. Whump, whump, whir._ So intent he was on listening he almost missed Gandalf’s next words.

“But the smell of Hobbit is all but unknown to him.” Bilbo was suddenly aware of every eye turning to him.

“Sorry, did you say something?” he asked politely. Bofur snickered and Dori shook his head.

“You believe the Halfling could sneak into Erebor?” Thorin asked Gandalf. Bilbo frowned, not at the words but at the continuous sound. _Whump, whump, whir. Whump, whump, whir._

“Bilbo? Bilbo?” Bilbo shook his head, turning to look at Gandalf who appeared quite flummoxed. “Have you been listening to a single word we have been saying?”

“Sorry, I just . . . thought I heard something,” Bilbo said slowly.

“How can you hear anything in here?” Bofur asked. “There’s nothing but us and the ship’s engine.”

“Hobbits have remarkable hearing,” Gandalf said. He turned back to Bilbo. “What are you hearing?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Bilbo said. Pushing his chair out, he removed a translator from his ear and moved to press against his pointed ear against the wall. Vibrations ran through the ship’s walls and into his ear. _Whump, whump, whir. Whump, whump, whir_ _._ It was growing closer.

“Hush,” Gandalf shushed the Dwarves as someone began to speak. “Do not even move. Bilbo might miss something.” Silence fell for several seconds Bilbo listened.

“Well?” Nori asked, breaking the tense air.

“It sounds like . . . ‘whump, whump, whir’,” Bilbo said, screwing up his eyes. “Is it another ship?” he asked Gandalf as he stepped away from the wall. Thorin’s shout almost made him jump out of his skin.

“Orcs!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember I actually considered Kili and Fili being the engineers in the beginning. Something made me change my mind in the end and I went with Bofur and Bifur instead. I'm really glad I did.


	14. Battles and Beauties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I wrote this chapter before class. I was actually getting excited the whole time, feeling like I was actually on the ship when this all happened. The ending was kind of an accident. It just sort of happened.

**Battles and Beauties**

“Would ya stop insultin’ their engines? It’s gettin’ on me nerves. And why are ya starin’ at me like that? It’s creepy!”

“ _I am imagining I am throwing a socket wrench at your head._ ”

“Oh that’s it!”

“ _You cannot even strangle me with both hands. How do you think you can do it with your hands tied behind your back?_ ”

“I goin’ ta kill ya!”

“GUARDS!”

O.o.O

The dining area fell into chaos. Dwalin was already hurtling down the sleeping quarter’s hall to fetch his axes. Kili and Fili remained in their chairs, stricken expressions on their faces. It took several prods from Balin to make them move. Bofur and Bifur flew up the stairs to the engine room. Dori hurried through the scrambling Dwarves to grab his brothers’ arms in a firm grip. Bilbo sidled his way to Gandalf’s side, grabbing the wizard’s sleeve.

“Enough!” Thorin roared over the shouting. Nori stopped shouting at Dori for a second, Ori trembling beside him. “Kili, Fili, get up to the cockpit. Tell Bofur and Bifur to run the ship at a hard burn.” Fili tore up the stairs with Kili hot on his heels. “Gandalf, take the Halfling and get to a pod. If the Orcs board I want you off this ship and heading to safety.” Gandalf nodded and clutched Bilbo’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear. The Hobbit hurried down the hall to his bedroom just as Dwalin reappeared with several weapons in his hands. “I want everyone else down in the cargo bay armed and ready for battle.” Dwalin began to pass out the weapons he had gathered. Thorin charged up the stairs toward the cockpit, leaving Dwalin in charge.

Bifur and Bofur were darting around the engine room as they prepared for a hard burn. Levers were jerked back, knobs were turned, and screws were tightened. Bifur disappeared behind the engine and Thorin heard a distinct screeching down from back there. Bofur’s face was a mask of indifference, his usual laughing smirk missing. He nodded to Thorin as the captain of the ship hurried down the hall toward the cockpit. Fili was flitting between monitors, Kili already seated in the pilot seat.

“Any signs of the Orcs yet?” Thorin asked Fili, striding up to stand behind Kili. His younger nephew was gripping the steering in one white-knuckled grip while his other hand flipped switches.

“They’re right behind us,” Fili told his uncle. Leaning over, Thorin examined the monitor his nephew pointed at. A red dot sped across the pale green screen, accompanied by a consistent _blip_. Thorin swallowed hard and turned back to look out the windshield.

“What do we do?” Fili asked in a soft voice. What had started as a fun evening was turning into a disaster for the young Dwarves. They had never met Orcs before now, never having worried about them in the wide open space of the universe.

“We outrun them,” Thorin said. “Fly at a hard burn for as long as we can.” Kili shifted his grip on the steering wheel, swallowing hard.

“What if they catch us?” Fili voiced the horrible thought aloud. Thorin clapped him on the shoulder, looking his nephew straight in the eye.

“Then we fight,” he said honestly. He laid a hand on Kili’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “We are Dwarves of Erebor. We do not go down without a fight.” His words caused Fili and Kili to nod slowly. “Whatever you do, Kili, do not allow them to get near us.” Taking a deep breath, Kili shifted in his seat.

“I’m ready,” the young Dwarf said. His brother grabbed the back of his chair in anticipation. “Just say the word.” Thorin turned his gaze to the oncoming ship on the monitor. With every minute that passed vibrations grew throughout the ship. The familiar _whump, whump, whir_ caused the glass of the windshield to tremble in its frame.

“Thorin?” Fili’s voice was strained.

“Hold,” Thorin said gruffly. He watched the red dot grow closer and closer.

“Thorin, they’re on top of us!” Fili shouted, his voice cracking. “Uncle!”

“NOW!” Thorin roared. Kili threw a lever and slammed the steering wheel forward for a spurt of speed. _The Arkenstone_ rocketed forward at ridiculous speeds, the stars rushing past. Thorin held the rail of the cockpit’s deck in a death grip. The entire ship was shaking under Kili’s control.

“Hard burn!” Thorin shouted down the hall. “Hard burn!” Bifur’s shout of Khuzdul echoed down the hall followed by a terrible wrenching sound. Fili had grabbed the hand-held for the intercom and was yelling into it words Thorin couldn’t decipher. His attention turned back to the monitor to see the red dot following them closely. He rounded on Kili.

“Why are you flying clean? Fly dirty! FLY DIRTY!” Kili spared his uncle a glance before he suddenly wrenched the steering wheel sideways. The ship careened over and completely flipped. It was followed by another spurt of speed and Thorin thought he was going to be sick.

“Get me a forged corkscrew,” Kili screamed to Fili who stumbled to the door of the cockpit.

“Forged corkscrew!” Fili shouted down the hall. “Get us a forged corkscrew!”

“She can’t handle it!” Bofur’s yell answered. Fili turned to his brother who nearly shouted himself hoarse in his next words.

“SHE HAS TO! GIVE ME A CORKSCREW!” Thorin dug his heels into the steel floor as the ship vaulted itself through yet another flip. More screeches erupted from the engine as Bifur and Bofur prepared her for a dangerous move. Fili managed to make his way to the copilot seat, buckling himself in. Kili reached for a knob beside him until Bofur’s shout carried down the hall.

“SHE’S ALL READY!”

“HOLD ON!” Kili shouted back. Spinning the steering wheel completely upside down, he jammed the knob in. Thorin was nearly thrown over the railing as the ship flew into a series of flips. A grinding sound erupted from the engine room and Bofur could be heard cursing. Thorin’s teeth rattled in his skull and he clung on. The tortuous twirling continued, threatening to dislodge Thorin completely from the ship.

Suddenly it stopped. Kili was bent over the steering wheel, panting. Fili’s white-knuckled grip on the arms of his chair didn’t ease up. He stared straight ahead, his eyes wide with terror. Peeling himself off the railing, Thorin straightened up. He stumbled backward to peer through the door. Black smoke was emitting from the engine. Bifur had hauled his unconscious cousin out of the engine room and was slapping him across the face.

“Thorin,” Kili said in a small voice. Sparing Bofur a glance, Thorin made his way back to nephew’s side. Kili pointed at the green screen and Thorin swallowed hard. The Orcs were close behind, nearing them with every minute that passed.

“Get your weapons,” Thorin ordered, his voice strained. Kili and Fili unbuckled themselves from their chairs and flew from the cockpit. Thorin followed them at a sedated pace, pausing by Bifur to check on Bofur. The engineer’s head lolled to the side, a trickle of blood running down the side of his face from his temple.

“Did he hit his head?” Thorin asked. Bifur nodded, muttering in Khuzdul. “Get your boar spear.” When Bifur opened his mouth to argue Thorin clapped him on the shoulder. “I will not ask you to leave your cousin’s side, but you must be prepared for anything.” Bifur nodded again and hurried to grab his weapon from his room. Thorin threw himself down the stairs, through the dining room, and down the second flight of stairs.

Ten Dwarves stood in the cargo bay in clusters of their families. Dori and Nori stood before Ori, their younger brother trembling on the spot. Gloin’s axe was held before him in a tight grip while Oin’s staff remained at his side. Bombur had armed himself with a rather large ladle, standing along without his brother or cousin. Balin nodded a greeting to Thorin as Dwalin passed him the Elvish sword. Kili and Fili were at Thorin’s side the moment he moved to the front of the company.

“Where’s Bofur?” Nori asked Thorin, his voice breaking the tense silence. Thorin felt Bombur’s worried gaze turn to him.

“He was struck on the head in the engine room,” Thorin said softly. He nodded to Bombur. “Go, be with your brother.” The rotund Dwarf hurried up the steps and out of the cargo bay toward his family.

“Are we going to die?” Ori asked in a small voice. Dori gripped his shoulder in a tight grip and Nori patted him on the back. Thorin swallowed hard. Who knew what was going to happen in the next few moments.

“Gandalf?” Thorin asked Balin quietly.

“He and Bilbo escaped in a pod,” the old Dwarf responded. “The moment the ship fell dead in the water.”

“He’s abandoned us,” Dwalin growled, and Ori wailed at that. Dori glared at Dwalin whose scowl only deepened. “He did. Why else would he have left in such a hurry?”

“Enough,” Thorin barked. Dwalin backed down and Dori returned to soothing his youngest brother. “Whatever happens next I want you all to know it has been an honor flying with you.”

“We would have to Erebor with you, laddie,” Balin said seriously, accompanied by several murmurs of agreement. “But it will be an honor to die fighting side by side with King Under the Mountain.” Thorin smiled grimly at that. Trust Balin to bring up such a topic when they were about to die.

“How far away were they when you came down here?” Nori asked Thorin, his arm wrapped around Ori’s shoulders. Thorin had opened his mouth to respond when the entire ship shuddered.

“Right there,” Kili squeaked out. Fili stepped closer to his brother, their arms brushing in comfort.

“Hold your ground,” Thorin ordered as he turned back to the door. “Whatever comes through that door you hold your ground. No Orc will pass through this bay unharmed.” Dwalin shifted his grip on his axes and growled under his breath. What happened next Thorin would never completely understand.

The sound of a spark crackled through the entire cargo and then suddenly electricity spread through the metal. Thorin’s hair stood on end with the energy. His body convulsed until he hit the ground, shaking. He heard Kili squealing in pain and Ori screaming followed by a series of thumps. The electricity stopped pulsing through the ship and Thorin’s body twitched with final convulsions. Through a haze of semi-consciousness he heard a screeching sound of metal being torn apart. The doors to the cargo bay opened and a lithe figure advanced on Thorin. It bent over him, fading from view as Thorin’s eyes flickered shut. His head rolled to the side and he was unconscious.

O.o.O

Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Elves. He and Gandalf had barely left _the Arkenstone_ in their wake when the Elvish ships had overtaken them. They were slender ships – Second Age _Starlights_ , Gandalf told him – forged from mithril in smooth triangular shapes built to hold no more than five Elves a piece.

“Built for battle,” Gandalf had explained to Bilbo. “They were used several times until the Elves designed the _Western Ship_.

“What is a _Western Ship_?” Bilbo had asked curiously as the Elves’ ships shot past them.

“That,” Gandalf had said, pointing ahead of them. A long, silver ship shaped like a raindrop had coasted over the small pod, heading for the Orcs’ ship as it attacked _the Arkenstone_.

Gandalf and Bilbo’s arrival on the planet of Rivendell had been warm. Lord Elrond was absent – having been aboard the _Western Ship_ they had passed – but Lindir had greeted Bilbo with such joy the Hobbit almost felt at home. Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond’s sons, were especially keen to meet the Hobbit. They distracted his attention from Gandalf with question after question about Hobbit cultures until their father’s ship returned.

Scurrying to Gandalf’s side, Bilbo watched the large raindrop-shaped ship lower into the atmosphere. The _Stardusts_ skimmed past it to settle first on the tarmac, their speeds ultimately the better of the two designs. The _Western Ship_ – _Celebrían_ , as the helm said – lowered slowly onto the docking station, legs extracting to catch the ship before it hit the ground too hard. A ramp at the rounded end of the ship lowered and a tall, dark-haired Elf strode down to hug Gandalf.

“Gandalf,” the Elf said. “It seems too long since your last visit here. I wish you would have stayed longer last week. I never had the chance to see you.”

“I am sorry about that,” Gandalf told the Elf. “But I was in a hurry to find Thorin and his crew before anyone else did.” Bilbo watched the meeting between old friends until the Elf’s eyes fell on him.

“A Halfling,” he said in surprise. “I was not aware you were removing Halflings from their sanctuary.”

“I am not,” Gandalf said quickly. “Bilbo was meant to act as an ambassador in the Government during next week’s discussions about the sanctuary. Bilbo, I would like you to meet Lord Elrond.” Bilbo’s mouth fell open at that.

“L-Lord Elrond?” he repeated. He made to bow but the Elf Lord’s hands caught his shoulder.

“There is no need for such niceties, Bilbo Baggins,” Lord Elrond said with a chuckle. “It is indeed a great honor to meet a Halfling from the Shire system. It has been centuries since once has graced my home of Imladris.” Gandalf smiled warmly at Lord Elrond, perhaps thanking him for his courtesy.

“Now, about the Orcs,” Lord Elrond continued. “We took care of them quickly enough, but not before they had managed to dock against your friend’s ship.” He gave Gandalf a meaningful look before turning to Lindir. “Have a ship sent out to retrieve _the Arkenstone_ at once. She is in need of repairs, particularly to the engine.”

“Wh-What about the Dwarves?” Bilbo asked. Lord Elrond looked down to him then turned to gesture to the ship. Several Elves descended the ramp with boards between them. It wasn’t until they had passed Bilbo that he saw what was on them. The Dwarves were unconscious, a sickly pale color under the grime on their faces. A trickle of blood ran down Bofur’s cheek, accompanied by a terrible looking dark scar that fanned out like a fern.

“The Orcs were armed with a discharger,” Lord Elrond was Gandalf behind Bilbo. “They managed to electrocute the ship moments before we arrived. Bofur, I believe you called him, his heart had stopped but we were able to restart it with a shock from the defibrillators.”

“Will they be alright?” Bilbo asked earnestly. Lord Elrond smiled down at him, patting his curls.

“Only time can tell now, little one,” the Elf said before following the Elves into the extravagant building. A hand fell on Bilbo’s head and he looked up to see Elrohir and Elladan.

“Tell us, Bilbo,” Elrohir said. “Have you ever heard of hide and seek?”

O.o.O

Agent Smith could only shake his head as a sedated Bofur was carried out of the interrogation room. Bifur grinned at him once before the Dwarf was led back to his cell. Pinching his nose, the agent sighed. That had gone badly enough.


	15. Understandings and Untimely

**Understandings and Untimely**

Oin hadn’t always been interested in medicine. At a younger age he had wanted to be a smith like their father, forging swords for great warriors and kings. His father had taught him everything he could in the beginning. In the year 4872 the call had come. Every Dwarf was needed for the Battle of Azanulbizar . At the age of twenty-five Oin had eagerly joined the army. He could still remember waving farewell to Gloin as he departed with their father. Gloin had stood on the front step with their mother at the age of sixteen, not knowing this might be the last time he saw his older brother.

Several weeks later Oin stumbled back into the house with a nasty injury to the head and no father to speak of. It had been Gloin who had picked him up off the floor and dusted off his jacket. Gloin had been the one to tend to his wounds, both physical and mental. Every nightmare Oin had about the battle was countered by Gloin’s soft voice singing his older brother back to sleep. Gloin had been his crutch during the hardest part of his life.

Until the day Oin received word: Gloin had been injured in an accident at the smithy. His fingers had nearly been severed when a sword slipped from the anvil. Oin had rushed to the hospital the moment he’d heard the news. Watching the doctors stitch his brother’s fingers back together, Oin’d had a life-changing moment. He had found his calling.

Once his brother had been settled at home with their mother to care for him, Oin had left for medical school. Twelve years of schooling later found Oin working at the local hospital where he told a horrified miner his cousin would never be the same. It was the hardest diagnosis he had given, watching the miner cry into his brother’s shoulder, asking Mahal _why_? He had been one hundred at the time. Sixty-two years later he met the Dwarf he had diagnosed as permanently injured and later insane. Both he and his now jovial cousin would be working as the ship’s engineers.

Oin tugged uselessly at the handcuffs binding his hands to the steel table. Why the Men felt an elderly, half-deaf Dwarf was a danger to them was beyond him. Yes, he did know the weakest points in a body whether it be a Man or a Dwarf. Yes, he was one of the more skilled warriors on the ship’s crew. And yes, he had treated Bilbo enough to be properly defensive about him. So when the human agent named Smith had entered the room he had made his opinion very apparent.

“I-I see . . .” Agent Smith said, blinking in shock. He glanced over his shoulder to the closing door before turning back to Oin, finding no help for him. Oin smiled at the familiar fist mark on the Man’s face. He had treated the fist enough times to know it belonged to a certain insane Dwarf. “I am sorry about the predicament, but we can’t be taking any precautions.”

“Apparently your precautions aren’t working well enough,” Oin commented. The Man scowled at that.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bifur punched you,” Oin said, motioning with his handcuffed hands at the Man’s face. “I’d recognize that bruise anywhere. I’ve seen it enough on Bofur’s face.”

“Yes,” Agent Smith sighed as he rubbed the bruise. “I made the mistake of allowing Bofur to translate for me while I spoke with Bifur.” Shaking his head, he settled himself into the chair opposite Oin.

“They got into a fight?” Oin guessed.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Agent Smith said.

“Oh, I think I could,” Oin countered. When Agent Smith looked confused he decided to go further into the explanation. “Bifur and Bofur have had a strained relationship since the day I met them. Bifur was an orphan from birth, his mother died in childbirth and his father abandoned him to his sister-in-law.” Agent Smith leaned forward in interest, paying close attention to Oin’s words. “He was raised alongside Bofur and Bombur. His aunt never treated him badly, but Bifur never really felt like he belonged.”

“Bifur’s records have no recollection of what you’re saying,” Agent Smith said slowly. “How do you know this?”

“Bifur spends a lot of restless nights in the medical bay,” Oin explained. “He and his cousins are miners and toymakers with ancestry from Moria.”

“They’re from the working class,” Agent Smith reiterated and Oin nodded. “Don’t Dwarves keep records of the working class?”

“We do,” Oin said slowly, wondering how to explain this. “But Erebor was our capital. When the planet fell to Smaug we lost all sense of order. We Dwarves were forced to move to other moons and planets, taking work where we could. Bifur was born in a small village on the Blue Mountains. His was a home birth and so not recorded until several years later when he turned twenty. It was the same with Bofur and Bombur.”

“I see,” Agent Smith said. Sitting back, he crossed his arms. “Your records show you studied on Rivendell for twelve years before returning to the Blue Mountains.”

“Aye, Lord Elrond taught me himself,” Oin said. “Gandalf himself recommended me to his friend as a student.”

“Strange,” the Man commented. “Both you and Dori were directed there by Gandalf to study schooling.”

“You Men,” Oin sighed with a shake of his head. “Always seeing connections where there are none. When will you learn?” If Agent Smith was insulted he didn’t show it.

“How many years did you work at the local hospital on the Blue Mountains?” Agent Smith asked. Oin turned his eyes to the ceiling, recounting the years.

“One hundred and twenty-two years,” he finally said. “I began working there in 4887 when I returned from Rivendell as an assistant.”

“And by the end of your time working there you were the Chief of Medicine?”

“Aye.”

“What made you leave?” Oin blinked at the agent’s question. “Clearly you were working in a good position at the hospital. Why did you decide to leave for _the Arkenstone_?”

“Because Gloin was going,” Oin said, as though it was obvious. “Gloin is family, and where I come from you don’t abandon family.” Agent Smith’s eyebrows rose at the comment. “Gloin and I have looked after each other from the moment Gloin could walk. When Thorin asked him to join as an accountant I offered my services as a medic.”

“During your time on the ship did you find yourself working in that particular position?”

“Not really,” Oin admitted. “We Dwarves can have rather thick skulls when we want to. If anyone managed to get themselves injured on a job they usually kept it to themselves.”

“And would you say your skills had grown rather rusty when Bilbo had joined the ship?” Agent Smith asked. Oin looked appalled at that.

“Not at all,” he said. “I continued to practice medicine when I could but by no means does that mean I forgot anything.”

“And what about these . . .” Agent Smith consulted a sheet of paper before continuing. “Medical mites? They don’t appear to be manufactured by any cooperation.”

“That’s because they’re not,” Oin said. “Medical mites are one of Bofur’s inventions.”

“What exactly are they?”

“They are miniscule mites, a bit like technological spiders, that replace damaged DNA. They can heal anything from torn skin to broken bones.”

“Do they leave scars?” Agent Smith asked.

“Of course,” Oin said. “Any kind of treatment will leave a scar. Bilbo’s just showed up more often than everyone else’s because he is a Hobbit.”

“How should his being a Hobbit affect anything?”

“The medical mites were invented for use on Dwarves,” Oin explained. “Our skin is tougher than a Hobbit’s.”

“Is that the cause for Bilbo’s sensitivity to the medical mites?”

“Aye. Why are you asking these questions, laddie?”

“We want to be one hundred percent accurate for the trial,” Agent Smith said. At Oin’s confused look he explained. “You and your crew members are looking at life in prison for the kidnapping and prolonged possession of a Hobbit.”

Oin sighed. “Where did Bifur leave off?” he asked. “Obviously he must have told some of the story or you wouldn’t be here right now.” Agent Smith hesitated before nodding in agreement.

“Lord Elrond had just rescued the crew from the Orcs’ ship.”

“Alright then,” Oin said with a nod. “Bofur was the last one of us to wake up. That head injury he had earned himself in the engine room hadn’t helped any. Of course, if he hadn’t made that stupid move he would have been fine . . .”

O.o.O

_Bofur and Bifur watched helplessly as the engine screamed in its cradle. The hard burn Kili had shouted for was pushing the ship past her limits. If they continued at this rate any longer she’d fall from the sky in a storm of fire and smoke._

_“Come on, sweetie,” Bofur urged. Beside him, Bifur grabbed a socket wrench and chucked it at the engine with a shout in Khuzdul._  " _Bif, leave it. She’ll be fine,” Bofur shouted to his cousin. Bifur gestured back to the engine and spoke again. “I know she’s strained, but she can make it.”_

 _Bofur’s words were punctuated by a terrible_ clang _. The engineer spun around just in time to see a long pipe snap out of place and spin sideways, trapping itself between the whirling engine and its cradle. The force of the engine was too much for the strength of the pipe and likewise the pipe was too strong for the engine to continue spinning. Bofur watched in horror as the engine – once a dizzying mass of spinning parts – stuttered in place. A terrible screeching sound filled the engine room as the ship’s engine attempted to continue spinning and the pipe tried to keep it in place. Black smoke billowed from the struggle, leaking out into the hallway._

_“Oh, Mahal,” Bofur cursed before he leapt forward, his hand reaching for the lodged pipe. He heard Bifur shout at him to stop just as his hand closed around the end of the pipe. His move was enough to shift the pipe just an inch and the engine screamed back into its spinning. Bofur could only watch in horror as the pipe was jerked forward, his arm along with it, and under the engine. The engine drove over Bofur’s arm relentlessly, drawing scream from him. T_ _he last thing he saw was a part of the engine flying at his head and everything went black._

Bofur liked sleep. Sleep was peaceful. Sleep was good. He especially liked this wonderful sleep where he felt like he was floating. His dreams were filled with angels from the heavens, like those one the Men were always talking about. They sang to him in their sweet, melodious voices. Their fingers ran through his hair and soothed his aching injuries. If Bofur didn’t know better he’d have thought he had died. Now if only that one little demon spawn would stop knocking on his forehead.

“Bif, knock it off.” That certainly wasn’t one of the angels. The knocking on Bofur’s forehead turned into drumming. “Bif, if you don’t stop I’ll tell the Elves.” Harsh words met Bofur’s ears and he frowned slightly. “I’m serious this time. They said if you kept knocking on his head like that he might never wake up.” More harsh words and a sigh. “Fine, I’ll tell Dori.”

“Tell Dori what?” Bofur finally croaked. It seemed like he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight. He forced his heavy eyelids open to see Bifur sitting on his stomach, his cousin’s hand raised over his head. Bifur cocked his head like a puppy and spoke something in Khuzdul.

“Aye, I’m awake,” Bofur groaned. “Now would ya get off me?” Bifur frowned and growled again. “I don’t hate ya, Bif. Yer just heavy.” Nori’s face appeared in the background.

“I told him to get off you,” Nori offered up. “But he wouldn’t listen to me like he does you.”

“He doesn’t even do that,” Bofur pointed out. “Why didn’t ya just pull him off?” Nori shrugged at that.

“Meh, too much work.”

“Yer a great friend, Nori.”

“I try.”

Bifur knocked on Bofur’s head again and Bofur groaned. His head still ached from the incident in the engine. And if the pounding in the back of his skull was anything to go by it wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The dull pain in his right arm throbbed in time with his heart. Bifur continued to rant, Bofur only half aware of what his cousin was saying. He only nodded in agreement before promising to never make a stupid move like that aga-.

“Wait, what stupid move?” Bofur asked his cousin. Bifur scowled and shook a finger at him, growling.

“Bifur told us you tried to grab a piece of the engine that fell off,” Nori said lazily. He had disappeared from Bofur’s view but reappeared with a vase in his hands. “Why’d you do something stupid like that?”

“The engine would have exploded if I didn’t,” Bofur argued. Bifur gave him a final thump on the head before hopping off his cousin and leaving the room.

“He’s probably going to find Bombur,” Nori said, tossing the vase aside. Bofur heard a shattering sound but Nori didn’t look fazed.  “Your brother’s been worried sick for days.”

“How long have I been out?” Bofur asked as he pushed himself upright on the bed. He froze at the sight before him and blinked then blinked again. “Bless me, where are we?”

The room was extravagant. Sunlight streamed through walls made of silk that fluttered in the winds. Soft golden hues and warm reds graced every tapestry and cloth in the rooms. The chairs by the bed, the armoire opposite him, and the bedside tables were all made of a soft willowy wood. To top it all off the floor and columned walls were made of a sandstone he had never seen before.

“First question,” Nori said, ticking off a finger. “Three days. The Elves kept you sedated so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Second question, Rivendell.”

“What happened?” Bofur asked breathlessly. A shake of his head caused his hair to shift across his shoulders. Someone had taken it out of its braids and brushed it. Nori fell into a particularly fine wooden chair and propped his heels up on Bofur’s bed.

“Moments after you conked out we were attacked by Orcs,” Nori said. “Thorin let Bifur and Bombur stay by you. We all thought we were going to die.” Bofur gave him his best ‘clearly we’re alive look’. “Yeah, yeah, we’re still alive. The Orcs had a discharger on their ship. The moment they connected to ours they let her rip.”

“Electric shock?” Bofur guessed. Nori nodded solemnly.

“I’ve never felt anything like it,” the thief said. “One moment the entire ship was shaking and the next this pain just went right up my legs. It made my hair stand on end and I couldn’t move. The Elves managed to rip the Orcs’ ship off ours with one of their own before we could be killed.”

“Bless me,” Bofur sighed, shaking his head. “You laddies sure do get into trouble when I’m asleep.”

“At least you got a cool scar,” Nori muttered. Bofur frowned in confusion and his friend pointed to his other side. Turning his head, Bofur saw himself in a small mirror. His head had been wrapped in clean, white bandages, his hat missing and an awful gash down his right temple had been stitched up by expert hands. His right arm had been wrapped tightly in gauze and strapped into a splint. It was the odd burn mark, though, that caught Bofur’s attention. It started at the juncture between his neck and shoulder and spread out in a spindly fern design. It ran up past his neck and across his right cheek.

“Lord Elrond called them ‘lightning flowers’,” Nori explained. “It sounds a bit girly to me. Apparently it usually happens when lightning hits something . . . or someone.” He smirked at that and Bofur turned to look back at his friend. “Apparently it’ll be gone in a few days. I think you get a tattoo, though.”

“Oh, right,” Bofur said in his best joking voice. “To remember the time I was attacked by Orcs when I was sleepin’.” His humor fell, lost in the strain of his voice. Nori frowned and straightened up in his chair.

“No one blames you, Bofur,” Nori said.

“I could’ve been killed,” Bofur said sadly. “We all could’ve been killed. What if my bein’ unconscious had been the difference between life and death.”

“Then I’m glad you don’t sleep that long more often,” Nori snorted, and Bofur couldn’t help but chuckle. The two friends fell into a comfortable silence during which Nori began to examine a comb in feigned interest. Something flickered in Bofur’s mind and he frowned.

“Where’s -?” he started, Nori finishing for him.

“Bilbo? Probably off playing with the Elves again.” Bofur’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah, he does that. Gandalf says it’s good for his mental state but I’m not buying it. I think the Elves are giving him sweets or something.”

“Nori,” Bofur laughed. He would have continued had it not been for his cousin’s familiar whistling and clapping. Leaning forward, Bofur tried to look out the window. “What’s Bif doing?” Nori glanced over his shoulder then rolled his eyes.

“Bifur’s been doing that since the day we arrived here,” he muttered, tossing the comb aside. “Whenever someone’s trying to find Bilbo he just stops where he is and starts whistling like Bilbo’s a dog. You know what the sick thing is? Bilbo actually listens. He comes running and Bifur pats him on the head.”

“He what?” Bofur asked in disbelief. “I thought he was done with that phase when we left Combe.”

“So did the rest of us,” Nori said. “But I think he started doing that because the first time he shouted ‘Bilbo!’,” At this Nori did a terrible imitation of Bifur’s guttural shout. “Bilbo wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours. I guess they came to an understanding.”

“Some understandin’,” Bofur laughed.

O.o.O

Bilbo enjoyed the Elves’ company. Even at the age of two-thousand-eight hundred and eleven Elrohir and Elladan asked him to play games. They dragged him from his room early in the morning to join them in a round of tag before breakfast, hide-and-seek after lunch, and capture the flag before sunset. Later he met Estel, aged ten, who played sword games with him. At first Bilbo had missed the looks of hurt and anger on the Dwarves’ faces. He hadn’t even noticed they had woken up until Kili and Fili joined in a game of capture the flag with the Elvish twins.

It was true, Bilbo loved the Elves. They treated him kindly, always helping him when he was in need of something. Every morning they greeted him warmly and commented on how nice he looked. They willingly sat down with him and told him stories of their planets and moons. They listened intently as he recited histories of the Shire system and even recounted entire family trees to the listening Elf.

Bilbo loved the Elves. But sometimes they were too much with their grace and wisdom and he wanted nothing more than to be among the simple folk of the Dwarves, something the crew of _the Arkenstone_ learned the hard way.

o

_“You can’t stop him from visiting with the Elves,” Dori reminded his younger brother for the fifth time that day. Nori just grumbled at him and continued to pace around the room. Lord Elrond had given the conscious Dwarves a place to relax in during the evening, a place to call their own during their visit._

_“The laddie is probably fine,” Balin told Nori soothingly. “After all, Gandalf did say their healing goes further than just physical wounds.”_

_“But why couldn’t we heal him?” Nori argued. “What can the Elves do that we can’t? We’re his friends.”_

_“The lad saw his friends and guards die before him,” Balin said._

_“Hobbits are a gentle folk,” Dori added. “Death of that kind is frightening to them.”_

_“Mental trauma such as that is difficult to heal,” Oin said from his corner with Gloin._ _“I have seen Bilbo playing with that wee laddie in the halls, and he does seem to be happier.”_

_“Does that mean he’s going to stay?” Ori asked worriedly, picking at his knitted gloves. “I like having him on board. He makes things interesting.”_

_“Oh I’m sure Bilbo would love to stay,” Nori growled, his pacing steps had turned into stomping. “And then he’ll return to the Shire system and forget all about us.”_

_“Now, laddie,” Balin said sternly. “You are forgetting what Gandalf said. We need Bilbo in order to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.”_

_“We need a burglar,” Ori whispered._

_“Whatever you want to call him,” Nori snapped at the other Dwarves. “He won’t want to do it. You saw him on the ship, he wasn’t even listening when Gandalf was talking.” Balin sighed hard through his nose and massaged his temples._

_“You are not listening to us, laddie,” he said._

_The doors burst open as Fili and Kili sauntered into the room, their chests heaving from exhaustion. Together they fell into chairs at a small table. Nori frowned as they laughed about something, fingers flying in their secret language._

_“What’s got you two laughing?” he demanded. Kili spared a glance to him before pulling a double-take and falling out of the chair._

_“Mahal, Nori,” he said, his voice muffled by the floor. “When did you get so terrifying?”_

_“It’s like a shooting star fell from the sky and hit the wrong patch of earth,” Fili snorted out. Nori’s scowl increased and the two brothers looked between each other nervously._

_“Where’ve you been?” he repeated._

_“We were playing with Bilbo and Estel,” Kili said._

_“Yeah, capture the flag,” Fili added. “Bilbo and Me against Kili and Estel.”_

_“Estel’s pretty good for a little kid,” Kili commented. “I bet he could be king someday_ _.”_

_“Where’s Bilbo now?” Nori demanded. “Why didn’t you bring him back here after the game?” Kili and Fili looked to each other once more before turning to Nori._

_“Some of the Elves pulled Bilbo away to take him down to the library,” Fili said._

_“Say, when did you get so defensive about Bilbo?” Kili asked. “You never acted this way on the ship.” Nori had opened his mouth to tell the young Dwarf to buzz off when there came a knock at the door. Balin was the one to answer it, revealing Bilbo on the other side._

_“So you are down here then,” Bilbo said. “Good, I thought for a moment I had come to the wrong room.”_

_“Not at all, come in, laddie,” Balin said, closing the door after Bilbo. “There’s no need for you to knock.”_

_“I just didn’t want to interrupt anything,” Bilbo said timidly. He looked around the room at the gathered Dwarves. “I heard raised voices.”_

_“It was nothing,” Nori said stiffly. He missed the hurt look on Bilbo’s face as he turned away from his friend._

_“We were just having a rather loud discussion,” Balin told Bilbo gently. “It’s nothing to be worried about. Now what can we do for you?”_

_“I, well, I was wondering if you would be willing to teach me a bit about your culture,_ _Bilbo said, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I’ve heard so much about the Elves it got me thinking I know next to nothing about Dwarves.” Nori’s ears perked up at that and he turned back around._

_“You want to hear about Dwarves?” he repeated. At Bilbo’s nod he grinned. “Why didn’t you say so before? We could have taught you more than those pointy-eared fellows are.” Balin urged Bilbo toward a seat by the window with a hand on the Hobbit’s back. Nori fell into a chair beside him and propped his heels on the windowsill. “Right, what do you want to know?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here began an entire week of writer's block that I really regretted it.


	16. Friends and Foes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castor was actually the one who helped me start writing again. She gave me a practice prompt about Estel and Bilbo talking and Bilbo falling down a set of stairs. It morphed into the complete chapter instead.

**Friends and Foes**

“And so I told him I could do it,” Estel said breathlessly as he and Bilbo climbed the stairs. Bilbo nodded pleasantly, encouraging the young boy to continue. “Except he said I couldn’t and then he dared me to do it.”

“Uh oh,” Bilbo said, chuckling. Estel beamed at his reaction. Clearly Bilbo knew how to react to Estel’s conversations better than anyone else did. “Did you do the dare?”

“Duh, of course,” Estel said. “I can’t just back down from a dare, can I?”

“Of course not,” Bilbo agreed. “When I was your age I got several dares.” He didn’t notice Estel had stopped walking until the boy stood several yards behind him. Stopping, Bilbo turned to frown back at Estel. “Is something wrong, Estel?” The boy hopped once like he had been electrocuted then raced to Bilbo’s side.

“You were my age?” Estel asked in shock. Bilbo stared at his disbelieving face for a moment before he broke out into laughter. “Hey, don’t laugh at me!”

“I-I’m not laughing at you,” Bilbo said through is laughter. “Sorry, I just remember having the same discussion with my younger cousins.” Straightening up, he wiped away a tear. “We’re all born, Estel, and we grow up. I’m fifty now.”

“Fifty!”

“But I used to be eight years old too,” Bilbo said, as though Estel hadn’t spoken. Estel frowned at him and crossed his arms.

“I’m nine,” the boy said indignantly. “But I’ll be ten next year.”

“Oh my,” Bilbo said. “Ten? I didn’t realize you were so old. Your curls make you look a bit younger.” Estel looked a bit dubious at that before he tugged at his curls worriedly. Bilbo laughed and clapped him on the shoulders. “I was only joking, Estel, you look ten years old. Don’t worry too much about. Go on with your story. You never said what the dare was for.” Estel seemed hesitant to continue but trekked on, staring at his curling hair the entire time.

“Elladan bet I couldn’t do it,” he said. “So he dared me to when I said I could. So I ate an entire jar of worms.” Bilbo’s mouth fell open at that and Estel beamed with pride. “Elrohir and Elladan were so shocked they did all my chores for a week.”

“Did Lord Elrond ever find out?” Bilbo asked weakly.

“Yeah,” Estel said, nodding. “After I threw up on his shoes.” Bilbo shut his mouth slowly and swallowed hard. Estel continued to beam at him, clearly awaiting his reaction. When Bilbo didn’t say anything he began to look worried. “What kind of dares did you get?”

“Oh, um, how far we could sneak into someone’s garden before they caught us,” Bilbo said, thinking back to his childhood. “And, uh, how many mushrooms we could eat before the local farmer caught us.” Estel’s nose wrinkled.

“That’s not much of a dare,” he said.

“Well,” Bilbo said as he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially. “It is when the farmer sets his dogs on you.” Estel’s eyes widened at that and Bilbo nodded. “Oh yes, and beats you off with a stick.”

“Wow,” Estel said in awe. Bilbo had just begun to smile smugly when a sharp clear whistle broke through the air followed by whistling. It took Bilbo only a few seconds to recognize Bifur’s call. The injured Dwarf had been doing it for three days ever since he’d terrified Bilbo with his shout. Head whipping around, Bilbo tried to locate the source of the sound.

“Do you have to go?” Estel whined to Bilbo. “Nobody listens to me like you do.”

“I’m sorry, Estel,” Bilbo said earnestly. “But my friends need to see me and it’d be rude to keep them waiting. It was fun talking to you.”

Giving Estel one more pat on the head, he whirled around and raced back down the stairs they had just climbed. His feet carried him out of the building and through the gardens to the other side. Bifur stopped whistling and clapping the moment Bilbo came into sight. The Dwarf grinned, patting Bilbo on the head when the Hobbit stopped before him.

“H-Hello, Bifur,” Bilbo gasped out as he clutched at the stich in his side. Bifur spoke something to him and gestured to his head. When Bilbo frowned at him he did it again, this time miming pulling a hat onto his head. Bilbo brightened up instantly.

“Bofur’s awake?” he asked eagerly. Bifur nodded and pointed behind himself. “Thank you, Bifur,” Bilbo said before he darted past the Dwarf. He hurried around the corner and down the hall. Bofur’s angry curses carried down the hall followed by Nori’s laughter. Peeking through the door, Bilbo gaped at what he saw. Nori had Bofur pinned underneath him, his knees pressing down on Bofur’s shoulders. No matter how hard Bofur struggled the star-haired Dwarf sat strong.

“I’m not doin’ it,” Bofur growled at Nori who cackled.

“You’re just saying that!”

“I am not! I’m not doin’ it, no matter how much ya beg me.”

“Nori!” Bilbo’s voice caused the two Dwarves to turn to him. Bofur grinned weakly while Nori frowned in a pout. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get Bofur to accept my offer,” Nori said, not moving from his position on Bofur’s chest. “He keeps saying no.”

“I said no the first time,” Bofur told his friend. “It was no the seventy-fifth time, and it’s still no.”

“What are you even talking about?” Bilbo asked in confusion. Stepping into the room, he shut the door behind him. Nori still didn’t move from Bofur’s chest even though the other Dwarf shoved at him.

“Nori made me an offer the first time he saw me,” Bofur said through a strained voice. “He said mph!” Nori slapped a hand over Bofur’s mouth before the Dwarf could finish.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” Nori hissed. “He doesn’t need to know. Yowch!” He jerked his hand back, clutching at it. “You bit me!”

“Then don’t put yer hand over my mouth.”

“You don’t even know where it’s been.”

“Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not?”

“It makes me nervous.”

“Really?” Nori asked devilishly. Leaning down, he whispered in Bofur’s ear. A red blush worked its way up Bofur’s cheeks until it had reached his forehead. Nori howled with laughter and shock when his friend threw him backward. He landed with a hard _thump_ on the floor. Bilbo could only shake his head at his friends’ antics.

“Ya need help,” Bofur told Nori seriously before he turned to Bilbo. “Hey, Bilbo, what brings ya in here?”

“Bifur called for me,” Bilbo said. Bofur grinned at and Nori’s howling laughter continued. “He told me you were awake.”

“Is he still mimin’ things?” Bofur asked, and Bilbo nodded. “Well, that’s better than what he was doin’ on Archet.” Nori – who had been calming down during their conversation – fell right back into another fit of laughter.

“What happened on Archet?” Bilbo asked over Nori’s howls.

“He shouted Khuzdul at everyone and expected them to understand him,” Bofur said. When Nori didn’t immediately calm down, he threw a pillow at his friend. “Would ya shut up?” Nori rolled over onto his back, linking his fingers behind his head.

“Why?” the sly Dwarf said. “Are you getting annoyed?” Another pillow landed on his face.

“More than ya can start ta understand.” Nori snorted and shoved the pillow off his face before he picked himself up off the floor. Bilbo moved slowly to settle himself in a chair at Bofur’s bedside, Nori falling into one on the other side.

“Has Bifur gotten any better since . . .” Bilbo asked unsurely. He never had actually heard what had happened to the injured Dwarf. Bofur and Nori looked to each other before Nori tilted his chair back and Bofur cleared his throat.

“He was out huntin’,” Bofur said, and Bilbo blinked in confusion.

“Sorry?”

“Bif was out hunting’,” Bofur repeated. “He and his friends were huntin’ some wild board for Durin’s Day. They were ambushed by Orcs. Bif was the only one who survived.” Bilbo gaped at him, at a loss for words. Before he could find anything to say, Bofur look at him sternly. “And don’t ya dare say yer sorry. I hear that too much. Bif’s not dead, he’s just a little confused.”

“You mean a lot,” Nori muttered under his breath, yelping when a comb hit him on his head. “Stop that!”

“Then shut yer mouth,” Bofur snapped back before turning to Bilbo. “Ta answer yer questions: aye, he’s gotten better. He used ta attack anything that moved toward him. He can only speak Khuzdul, though. And sometimes he doesn’t really understand what’s goin’ on around him.”

“If he can speak Khuzdul,” Bilbo wondered aloud. “Then why can’t I understand him?” He pointed at the translators in his ears. “I can understand the Elves’ Sindarin well enough thanks to these, but I’ve never been able to understand Bifur.” Bofur frowned and scratched his chair, trying to find an answer.

“Bif’s Khuzdul isn’t perfect,” he eventually said. “He used ta be impossible understand, even fer me. It took years of practice ta get him ta speak properly again. Yer translators might just not be able to understand what he’s sayin’.”

“I was hoping I would be able to understand him before I left,” Bilbo sighed despairingly. When neither Nori nor Bofur spoke, he turned to see their uneasy expressions. “What?”

“Didn’t Gandalf tell ya?” Bofur asked.

“Tell me what?”

“Trust the wizard,” Nori muttered. “He goes and does this. Of course. Because nothing can ever be easy.”

“What are you even talking about?” Bilbo demanded.

“What do ya remember from the night of the attack?” Bofur asked Bilbo gently. Bilbo frowned and thought back.

“There was the sound,” Bilbo said, and Nori nodded with a strange seriousness.

“The orcs’ ship.”

“But Gandalf had given Thorin a map and a key,” Bilbo continued. Bofur nodded him on eagerly. “Someone said you needed to sneak past a dragon. That’s when I started to hear the noise.”

“Right,” Nori said slowly, propping his feet on Bofur’s bed. “Gandalf and Thorin want you to sneak into Smaug’s lair and find the Arkenstone.” This time Bofur leaned forward to grab a leg of Nori’s chair and tipped it completely over. The Dwarf fell to the floor with an undignified screech. Bilbo gaped at them both before he finally found his voice.

“He _what_?”

O.o.O

Thorin didn’t know which annoyed him more about the wizard: his secrecy or the way Gandalf could pop up anywhere he wanted to. If the wizard was surprised to find himself faced with Orcrist – as Lord Elrond had so kindly told Thorin – he didn’t show it. Lowering the sword, Thorin rested the tip on the path of the gardens. Gandalf watched him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Good afternoon to you to,” Gandalf said to Thorin who snorted. “I was hoping I would find you out here.”

“You have been searching for me too much lately,” Thorin said in his deep voice. Gandalf’s eyebrows raised at that. “What do you want this time?”

“I wish to speak about Bilbo,” Gandalf said.

“I already told you,” Thorin said, sheathing his sword. “I will not take that Halfling to Erebor to find the Arkenstone. It is too dangerous.” Turning, he made his way deeper into the gardens. Gandalf’s presence followed him; and for a brief moment he wondered if it was possible to slay a wizard and not be charged for murder.

“It is not up for discussion,” Gandalf said in a dangerous voice. “What choice does Bilbo have but to join you on this quest?”

“He can return home,” Thorin said without looking back at Gandalf. “That is more than any of us could say.” A hand landed on his shoulder and Gandalf spun him around to face him.

“You are wrong,” Gandalf said. Thorin opened his mouth to retort but the wizard continued. “Have you ever heard of the Barrow Downs?” Frowning, Thorin shook his head. “I thought not. The Barrow Downs is a small planet, more of a moon really, a few miles off of Buckland. It once belonged to great kings of Men but was abandoned many years ago. The Government uses it now as an insane asylum for the Hobbits.” Thorin frowned at that.

“The Government is protecting the Halflings, though,” he said. “Why would they need an insane asylum?”

“For those who oppose them,” Gandalf said. “Or know better than the Government teaches them. Each year the Government continues to stretch their grip over the Shire System. I have tried on multiple accounts to stop them but it has grown difficult.”

“What are you saying?” Thorin asked.

“If Bilbo returns to the Shire system,” Gandalf said hesitantly. “Then he will be sent to the Barrow Downs where he will die a slow death.”

“Then he may remain here,” Thorin said after a pause. “Lord Elrond can protect him from the Government.” Gandalf’s expression shifted and Thorin frowned. “The Elf already suggested it?”

“Yes,” Gandalf admitted. “He is set on Bilbo remaining here while you continue on your quest. Part of it Bilbo’s mental health, the other is for Bilbo’s protection.”

“It will be safer here,” Thorin agreed. “Why are you so intent on Bilbo joining us on this quest?”

“You need a burglar, one who does not smell of a Dwarf. Bilbo would be perfect for you.”

“The Halfling is terrified,” Thorin argued. “He would be more willing to run from the dragon than go into its lair.”

“As so many would,” Gandalf said before leaning in to speak to Thorin in a soft voice. “Thorin, this quest will be for more than simply a planet. If you succeed in this quest than you will be saving more than one race.” Straightening up, he spoke in a more commanding tone. “You _will_ be taking Bilbo Baggins with you and you will like it.” Thorin could do nothing as the wizard stormed past him. He gaped at a willow tree for several seconds before Gandalf’s words finally processed.


	17. Lessons and Leaving

**Lessons and Leaving**

Gandalf supposed he should have known better. Thorin – being a Dwarf – was stubborn by nature. There was no way the wizard would leave the conversation without explaining himself.

“Gandalf!” Thorin called after the wizard. Gandalf chose to ignore him as he moved through the shade of the trees. “Tharkun!” The Dwarvish name caused Gandalf to pause and turn, watching as Thorin hurried toward him. The Dwarf’s face had flushed with irritation and he huffed angrily.

“I thought we were finished with our discussion,” Gandalf said mildly. Thorin’s eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps you were,” the Dwarf said in a dangerous tone. “But I was not. I want answers. What did you mean: save more than one race?”

“I meant what I said,” Gandalf said, a twinkling in his eye. “And I said what I meant. You will find I’m honest one hundred percent.”

“This is no time for your riddles!” Thorin snapped at the wizard. “I want a straight answer from you and now.” Gandalf opened his mouth to reply when a furious shout rang through the garden.

“GANDALF!”

“Oh dear,” was all Gandalf managed to say before a rock struck a tree beside him with a _thunk_.

“What was that?” Thorin asked, yelping when Gandalf shoved him behind a tree. Another rock struck the tree, just barely missing Thorin’s hand. “What is ‘oh dear’? Are we being attacked?”

“To answer your questions,” Gandalf said worriedly, wincing as another rock struck the tree. “ _That_ is a very angry Hobbit. _That_ should never be angered unless you value your life. And yes, _that_ is attacking us.”

“GANDLAF, YOU COME OUT HERE RGHT NOW!”

“That is the Hobbit?” Thorin asked in disbelief. Peeking around the tree, he managed to catch a glimpse of a very angry Hobbit before a rock flew toward his head. Thorin jerked back just in time before it struck him.

“Hobbits have remarkably good aim,” Gandalf told Thorin. “Normally they are slow to anger, though they can be quick when they want to be. Given projectiles, a properly angry Hobbit is a force to be reckoned with.” Another rock struck the tree, though it sounded as though Bilbo had stopped advancing. Thorin stared at Gandalf as his disbelief grew.

“HOW DARE YOU!”

“What does the Hobbit have to be angry at you about?” Thorin asked. “Besides getting it captured by smugglers.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD DO THAT TO ME!”

“ _That_ was not my fault,” Gandalf reminded the Dwarf. “And as for why he would be angry with me . . . I have no idea.”

“A DRAGON!” Gandalf and Thorin stared at each other for a moment before Gandalf’s lips twitched in a smile.

“Who told him?” Thorin growled.

“Perhaps one of your crew,” Gandalf suggested. Thorin glared at him before yelping as a well-aimed rock bounced off at tree behind him and struck him on the leg. “This is hopeless,” Gandalf sighed. “Hiding here will only end in Bilbo’s wrath increasing until one of us is unconscious.” Thorin’s murderous glare suggested clearly who he thought should be the one to suffer such a fate. “I believe you are correct, Thorin, it is time for the truth. Gather your crew in the Khazad room, I will speak with Bilbo.”

“You are going to tell me what you meant by your words?” Thorin asked the wizard just another rock narrowly missed him.

“DRATTED WIZARD!”

“I am,” Gandalf said quickly. “I believe you all need to hear this. Now go!” Steeling himself, Thorin darted out from behind the tree and disappeared through the bushes followed by several rocks. Gandalf sighed to himself before he stepped out from a behind a tree. A rock flew at his head and he deflected it with a quick spell.

“I should have said no,” Bilbo growled as he lobbed another rock at Gandalf’s head. Gandalf deflected it easily. “I should have known better than to go to the Government for you.”

“My dear fellow,” Gandalf said, knocking another rock aside. “I understand you are angry – “do you?” Bilbo demanded – but you are clearly overreacting.”

“I don’t think I’m overreacting,” Bilbo said as he tossed his last rock up and down in the air. “You want me to trade riddles with a _dragon_?”

“It is for much more than a dragon,” Gandalf said. His eyes followed the rock warily. “I have told Thorin to gather his crew in the Khazad room. If you will kindly accompany me you will learn the truth of this whole sad sorry tale.” Bilbo’s eyes narrowed at him suspiciously but the rock was tucked away into his pocket. “There’s a good, fellow,” Gandalf chortled, not missing the way Bilbo growled at him. “Now let us go join our friends.” Placing a guiding hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, he made his way back through the gardens.

O.o.O

Thorin counted the heads in the Khazad Room – as the Dwarves had named the room Lord Elrond had given them – as more Dwarves filed in. One-two-and three were Dori, Nori, and Ori. Four-five- and six were Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Seven and eight were Oin and Gloin. Nine and ten were Balin and Dwalin. Eleven and twelve were Fili and Kili. And he, Thorin Oakenshield Durin, made thirteen. Nodding to himself, Thorin seated himself in a chair beside Balin.

“Did Gandalf say what he wanted to talk about?” Balin asked Thorin. Every other Dwarf in the room had asked their captain that very same question. Thorin had only been able to tell them that Gandalf was going to tell them the truth. His answer had done little to assuage his crew.

Thorin’s eyes roved over the room as he watched his crew interact. Bombur and Bifur had shoved their brother and cousin into a chair to re-braid his hair, the Dwarf’s hat in his lap. Dori fussed over his brothers far more than he usually did. He hadn’t quite gotten over the Orcs attack yet. Gloin and Oin spoke in low voices in the corner while Fili, Kili, and Dwalin laughed loudly about some joke Kili had made.

All chatter stopped when Gandalf and Bilbo entered the room. Bilbo stood in the doorway fuming for several seconds until Bofur invited him to sit in the chair beside him. Gandalf pulled himself up a chair and sat down, waiting patiently for everyone to settle down.

“Why are we here?” Dori finally asked when no one else spoke. “Thorin said you were going to tell us the truth.” Gandalf’s eyes trailed over the Dwarves before he nodded sadly.

“Yes, I believe before you leave for this quest you all have the right to know,” the wizard said. He turned to Bilbo who glowered at him. “Bilbo, how did the Hobbits find the Shire System?” The question caused the Hobbit’s glower to fall to a confused frown.

“The Shire System is our home,” Bilbo said. “We have lived there since the very beginning.” Gandalf nodded and turned to Balin.

“Balin, how did the Hobbits find the Shire System?” he asked. Bilbo opened his mouth to argue but a meaningful eye from the wizard stopped him. Balin frowned at the question.

“The Hobbits are native to the Shire System” Balin said. “The Government declared it a sanctuary after they accidentally polluted the planets’ natural resources.”

“You are both wrong,” Gandalf said. Bofur stopped carding his fingers through Bilbo’s hair and Dwalin quirked an eyebrow. “Those are lies fed to your races by the Government.”

“Then what’s the truth?” Gloin growled out.

“I was getting to that. But to begin, I must tell you first of the three races of Hobbits: the Harfoots, the Fallohides, and the Stoors.”

“Those sound familiar,” Dori said. “I believe you mentioned them once to me in passing on Staddle.”

“You are correct, Master Dori,” Gandalf said. Shifting in his seat, he continued to speak. “The Harfoots were native to the Misty Mountains of the Khazad System of the Dwarves. They were smaller than their distant relatives and preferred to live underground. They and the local Dwarves were on friendly terms.” Thorin frowned, trying in vain to think back to the history of the Khazad System.

“But Harfoots don’t appear in our history,” Ori piped up. Gandalf nodded in agreement.

“Yes, the Government erased every mention of the race of Harfoots from you,” he said. “The Stoors were native the Gondor System of the Numenor and, later, the Men. They were heavier in build than either the Fallohide or the Harfoots and could grow bears. Like the Harfoots, they got along with their native neighbors.”

“Then the Fallohides,” Ori said. “We’re friends with . . .”

“Elves,” Thorin spat out. Gandalf sighed outwardly.

“Yes,” the wizard admitted. “The Fallohides were native to the same System as the Elves, crossing over with their allies many centuries ago. They were a pale folk and well-learned in many topics.”

“That is all very interesting,” Dori said, eyeing Bilbo in confusion. “But our dear Hobbit here doesn’t show any of the qualities you are talking about.”

“And that is where I was heading with my explanation,” Gandalf said. “I believe you are all aware of how the Men came to live in this universe, but for Bilbo’s sake I will retell the history.” Turning to the confused Hobbit, Gandalf spoke quickly. “By the twenty-second century the Men had used up the resources of their planet they called Earth. They launched a shuttle into space in search of a new home. The shuttle was found by Elves wandering through the Solar System and they agreed to help the Men. The Men were moved to a nearby system – the Rohan System – and eventually they built their own ships to explore further. Throughout the next few years they found the Khazad, Gondor, and Shire Systems. The Men called the races of these Systems together in a senate that would later form the Government of the Free Peoples.

“There were nine representatives for the Men, three for the Elves, and seven for the Dwarves. Sauron – an assistant to one of the Men – grew hungry for power and corrupted the representatives until the nine Men obeyed him. Three of the Dwarves joined him while the other four returned to the Khazad System. The Elves left the Government and returned to their own planets.”

“What does this have ta do with Hobbits?” Bofur asked, and Bifur shushed him.

“Sauron saw the three races of the Hobbits,” Gandalf said sadly. “He did not see unique races as you might but the perfect people to use as slaves.” Ori gasped and Nori said ‘no!’ “I am afraid that is just what Sauron. He sent his soldiers to find every Harfoot, Stoor, and Fallohide in the Systems and had them brought to his own. There they lived in terrible conditions and their numbers dwindled dangerously low.” The Dwarves found themselves at a loss for words. Bilbo had gone sheet white, his shoulder gripped firmly by Bofur. “It was not until Sauron had been defeated in the first war by Isildur that the Hobbits were found. With nothing else to do the Government abandoned them in the Shire System and left them to find their own way.”

“That’s terrible,” Fili said softly. Kili’s pained expression had turned to Bilbo who looked ready to faint.

“I convinced the Government to declare the Act of Restoration in 4914 and took over the Shire System. For many years the Government has left me alone to tend to the Hobbit races that had begun to mingle. Their histories were lost through the families and they were happy to live in peace. Recently, though, the Government has been trying to regain the Shire System for their own uses.”

“To enslave the Hobbits?” Thorin growled out, and Gandalf nodded.

“I am afraid that might be there goal,” Gandalf said. “In 4984 a pack of Orcs managed to cross into the System. It took several Rangers and myself to stop the Orcs from moving any further than the North Farthing planet.” Gandalf’s eyes flicked to Bilbo who had begun to slowly rock back and forth. “Bilbo was twenty-one at the time.” Bofur made a strangled sound and pulled his whimpering friend into a hug.

“Ya poor thing,” Bofur cooed into Bilbo’s ear, petting the Hobbit’s hair. Bilbo continued to whimper to himself, his hands clapped over his ears. Turning away from the Hobbit, Thorin spoke to Gandalf in a tense voice.

“What does this have to do with reclaiming Erebor?” he asked. Gandalf watched him for several long seconds before he answered.

“Erebor was once the capital of the Khazad System,” the wizard said carefully. “If you reclaim it and return to your rightful throne than the Government will lose some of its control.”

“You want to overthrow the Government?” Thorin asked in awe, and Gandalf nodded. “You want us to reclaim Erebor in order to save the Shire system?” Gandalf nodded again. Thorin swallowed hard, thinking through his decisions.

“Thorin,” Balin a strained voice. Thorin turned to see his old friend wore a pained expression. “Please.” Thorin almost missed the whispered word.  Thorin turned to look at Dwalin who nodded.

“Very well,” Thorin said. “We will reclaim Erebor and help you to overthrow the Government.”

“Excellent.”

“But we are not taking the Hobbit.”

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf shouted, drawing himself up from his chair. The lights in the room flickered and shadows drew up around the wizard. “We have argued enough. You _will_ take Bilbo Baggins to Erebor with you. He has every right to represent his own race on your journey.”

“He does not know how to fight,” Thorin argued.

“I have given him a sword,” Gandalf said. “Teach him to use it. In the meantime, I will remind you that Smaug knows the scent of Dwarf. Bilbo would be able to sneak into Erebor, steal the Arkenstone, and sneak back out without being noticed. That would allow you to gather up the remaining Dwarf armies and make your move.” Thorin scowled at Gandalf for several seconds before he finally growled.

“Fine.”

“But what about Bilbo?” Bofur asked, his arms full of a quaking Hobbit. “Doesn’t he get a decision?”

“Bilbo would be safe aboard your ship than anywhere else,” Gandalf said, sitting back down in his chair. The lights flickered back to life and the shadows withdrew. “Besides, I will be accompanying you on this quest.”

“You will?” Kili asked eagerly.

“As far the Greenwood,” Gandalf said. “Then I must turn aside and visit Dol Guldur. I have already met with the White Council while you were all resting.” Bofur’s face fell and he continued to whisper to Bilbo. “I believe you should allow Bilbo to relax during the rest of your stay here. It would do him well to heal as much as he can.” Thorin nodded before the wizard stood and left the room, shutting the door behind himself.

O.o.O

The pen clattered to the floor and Oin raised his eyebrows at the agent’s expression. A gaping fish would have been the perfect comparison.

“You’ll catch flies that way, laddie,” Oin said gently. The Man’s mouth shut slowly and he swallowed hard. “I take it you were as blind to the history as we were?” Agent Smith nodded, a dazed look in his eyes. “I am not all that surprised.”

“What happened next?” Agent Smith asked softly.

“Well, we remained on Rivendell for several weeks,” Oin said. “Lord Elrond managed to read the map for us and we learned we needed to reach Erebor by Durin’s Day. We wanted to Bilbo to heal as much as he could before we left, but one we had no choice . . .”

O.o.O

The message came when Elrohir and Elladan had taken Bilbo to the other side of the planet. Thorin was watching Kili and Fili play with Estel when Lord Elrond hurried into the compound. A quick bark at Estel in Sindarin sent the lad running past Lord Elrond and into the building. Kili pouted at the loss of his playmate.

“You need to leave,” Lord Elrond told Thorin quickly. “Immediately.” Thorin frowned and prepared to retort but the Elf’s next words sent ice through his veins. “The Government has requested to do an inspection of Rivendell.”

“I thought the Government didn’t have any power here,” Fili said, Kili nodding eagerly beside him.

“There are some things even I cannot stop,” Lord Elrond said. “Your ship is repaired and has been prepared for takeoff. You will be able to leave the moment your crew is ready.”

“But what about Bilbo?” Kili asked. “He’s on the other side of the planet.”

“I will send a message to my sons,” Lord Elrond said. “And they will bring the Halfling to you in the atmosphere.”

“How do we know you are not going to keep Bilbo here?” Thorin asked the Elf warily. Lord Elrond turned to him with a steely expression.

“You must trust me on this, Thorin Oakenshield,” he said. “Now go!”

Kili and Fili dashed from the courtyard, grabbing Thorin’s arm on the way out. The three Dwarves ran through the halls of the Last Homely House, down stairs, and through the door into the hanger. Balin stood at the base of the ramp, listing off Dwarves as they boarded the ship.

“Fili, Kili, Thorin,” he said. Fili and Kili raced past him to get to the cockpit in time. Thorin paused ready to ask the question Balin was already answering. “We are only waiting for Bifur and my brother.” The Dwarves in question appeared just as he had finished speaking. Dwalin clapped his brother on the shoulder and nodded to Thorin. Bifur had already raced for the engine room where Bofur waited for him.

“What about Bilbo?” Balin asked Thorin. “Lord Elrond’s sons took him to the other side of the planet.”

“They are meeting us in the atmosphere with him,” Thorin said.

“And Gandalf?” Dwalin asked.

“Has a pod for our ship,” Thorin said. “I have a feeling he will need to remain here to speak with the Government. He will be able to catch up to us whenever possible.”

“Very well,” Balin said. “Then we are all here.” Thorin nodded and the three Dwarves boarded the ship, Dwalin smashing the button down to close the cargo bay’s ramp.

By the time Thorin had reached the cockpit the ship had already taken off. Fili clutched at the controls, his eyes glued on the sky before him. Kili hovered over monitors to watch for any oncoming ships.

“So far so good,” Kili said. Fili spared him a glance before he increased the speed for takeoff. Thorin had a last glimpse of Lord Elrond standing on the tarmac below. The Elf raised a hand in farewell and Thorin turned away. Silence hung in the cockpit for several minutes until they had reached the atmosphere.

“Stop here,” Thorin ordered, grabbing Fili’s shoulder. Fili obeyed by pulling back on the controls. The ship slowed to a stop.

“How do we know if they’ll come?” Kili asked in a soft voice. Thorin didn’t answer as he watched the sky for any sign of an oncoming ship. Several minutes passed and he was prepared to tell Fili to continue when Kili exclaimed.

“There’s a ship coming our way,” he said, looking up from a monitor. “The screen reads a _Starlight_.”

“Bilbo,” Fili sighed, and Thorin hung his head in relief. The oncoming ship hailed them and Thorin granted them permission to lock on to the ship. Elladan and Fili communicated during the process until the _Starlight_ had successfully locked onto them. Time passed during which Thorin assumed Bilbo had moved onto their ship and then the _Starlight_ was bidding them farewell and they were leaving the atmosphere of Rivendell behind them.

They were off on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castor assured me the Dwarves didn't leave Rivendell too fast but I'm still not entirely sure. :/


	18. Offers and Opportunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I almost posted the wrong chapter before this. I got confused when I saw a line I was pretty sure wasn't supposed to be in there yet. Here is for sure the correct chapter!

**Offers and Opportunities**

Ori blamed himself for a lot of things that went wrong in his family’s life. He blamed himself for his mother leaving when he was four; for Dori losing his job; for Dori having to leave Gandalf’s program early when he fell sick; for Nori being caged at home as he paced like a wild animal. Ori blamed himself for all of these and more. His entire life he’d wanted nothing more than to be like his brother. He wanted to be sturdy like Dori and clever like Nori. Nori always said it was Dori holding their younger brother back, but Dori always said Nori was a bad influence for Ori. Ori couldn’t help but disagree with both of them. Dori just wanted what was best for his brothers and Nori was just being himself. That was why when Nori had joined the crew of the _Arkenstone_ Ori had been eager to go along too, ecstatic when Dori joined them.

The door to the cell Ori had been locked in opened and the Dwarf looked up from his handcuffed wrists. A guard had handcuffed him a few hours previously for the psychologist Ori had been forced to speak with. He had been rather confused when the guard hadn’t released him but now it was clear. The agent who had been hearing their story had finally come to his room.

The agent looked frazzled, worn from hours of talking with Bifur and Oin. His suit’s coat and tie had been abandoned. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone to reveal the white undershirt underneath. A predominant bruise graced the Man’s chin and his hair had been mussed from carding fingers.

“Good evening, Ori,” Agent Smith said in a tense voice.

“Is it evening?” Ori asked timidly, and the agent nodded. “Sorry, I kind of lose track of time in here.”

“That’s understandable,” Agent Smith said. Moving further into the room, he settled himself on the stool that had been left behind by the psychologist. “So, you are the navigator of the ship?” Ori nodded at that and the agent continued. “That’s a strange occupation considering your brothers are both ambassadors for the ship.”

“I studied cartography in school,” Ori said before he could stop himself. Flushing lightly, he looked down at his hands and muttered an apology.

“No, it’s fine,” Agent Smith said. “Our goal is to learn more about you and the rest of the crew. You say you studied cartography.” Ori nodded slowly. “Where did you get the chance to study such a subject? I don’t think they offer that in the Blue Mountains school.”

“Oh no, they don’t,” Ori said, brightening up. “Dori brought home a lot of books after he finished his studies on Rivendell. I got interested after looking through all the books and Dori asked Gandalf if he could find someone to teach me.”

“Study cartography?” Agent Smith clarified, and Ori nodded again enthusiastically. “Was it Gandalf who taught you?”

“No,” Ori said. “Gandalf was busy with the Shire System. He sent one of the Dunadain to teach me. I don’t really remember his name, but he was really nice and patient.”

“A Dunadain? I suppose that makes sense, seeing as they travel through the Systems at will. How long did you study cartography by the Dunadain?”

“Five years,” Ori said. “And then he had to return to the Shire System. That was the same year Nori joined Thorin’s crew.”

“And then you joined?” Agent Smith asked.

“Yes,” Ori said. “Nori knew I’d always wanted to leave the Blue Mountains so he convinced Thorin to let me join his crew as the navigator. I was sixty-seven at the time.”

“And now you’re seventy-two,” Agent Smith said, nodding to himself. “Ori, do you realize you will be sent to a juvenile detention center when we’re done here?” Ori nodded slowly, his heart sinking. “You and the rest of your crew are in a very situation here.”

“I could continue the story,” Ori blurted before the agent could continue speaking. The Man quirked an eyebrow and Ori flushed brightly. “S-Sorry, I-I just meant that I could, um . . . Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine,” Agent Smith said. “This story is proving more and more enlightening by the hour.”

“Where did Oin leave off?” Ori asked.

“You had just left Rivendell.”

“Right, so we were heading straight to the Misty Mountains. That’s about a nine day flight from Rivendell.”

“That’s quite a bit of time,” Agent Smith said, frowning. “Durin’s Day would have already passed by then.”

“Oh no,” Ori said with a shake of his head. “The Khazad System has always been several months behind the rest of the Systems, so we still had time before Durin’s Day. Anyway, Gandalf sent word before the end of the first day that he would be meeting up with us soon. The Government hadn’t heard anything about us . . .”

O.o.O

_The sharp howl rang through the forest. Gasping, Bilbo darted through the frost-covered trees as fast as his feet would carry him. The sounds of wolf paws and cold Orc laughter followed him, teasing him, taunting him. A stray tear fell from Bilbo’s eye and he sobbed in terror. His mother and father had warned him about wandering too far in the forest during the Fell Winter. He should have listened. He should have stayed indoors where it was warm and safe from the wolves and Orcs. But he didn’t and here he was now, being hunted down._

_The edge of the forest had just come into sight when Bilbo tripped over a root. Sprawling in the snow, Bilbo sputtered. The sounds of wolf paws drew nearer and nearer with every second he wasted on the ground. The Hobbit barely had a moment to think before strong hands grabbed the back of his shirt. He cried out and struggled wildly but they dragged him through the trees and away from the wolves. The hands didn’t bother allowing Bilbo to stand up, dragging him bodily through the snow. Bilbo’s heart sank as the footsteps moved beside him. An Orc had caught him, he was going to die._

_The footsteps faltered at his heart-wrenching sob. They dropped Bilbo rudely in the snow, the Hobbit sputtering some more, and suddenly they were patting at his clothes._

_“Bilbo,” a voice whispered. “It’s alright, we have you Bilbo.” Coughing out snow, Bilbo looked up through tear-filled eyes as new footsteps approached him. In the waning crescent moon he could just barely make out a star-shaped head and another head with funny flaps for ears._

_“Yer safe, Bilbo,” a new voice said. “We’ve got ta.”_

_A safe feeling spread through Bilbo. These strangers would protect him. They would keep the Wolves from getting him. He wasn’t sure how, but he just knew. The illusion shattered when a wolf howled directly behind the strangers. They turned with cries of terror and fell in opposite directions as a wolf leapt over them. The massive creature skidded into a hard-landing on the snow and darted at Bilbo. The Hobbit barley had a chance to scream as strong jaws grabbed at his hips. They dragged him back away from the strangers who shouted and reached for him. Bilbo scrabbled at the snow helplessly, wishing for someone to save him._

_“Bilbo!”_

_“Let go of him!”_

_The wolf snarled and snapped at the strangers before returning its strong grip to Bilbo who screamed in pain. He beat back at the wolf’s snout but it did little stop the creature from dragging him back. The strangers threw rocks and sticks at the creature. The wolf gave a new sound Bilbo hadn’t heard it make yet – a surprised yip – and suddenly the ground had disappeared behind him. Screeching, Bilbo scrabbled at the frozen ground for purchase, his lower half dangling in the hole._

_“Bilbo!” one of the strangers yelled. They ran to him and grabbed at his hands but they slipped against the snow. Bilbo had one moment to see a shocked Nori losing his grip before he fell down into the abyss. Fingers brushed against his, they tugged helplessly at his clothes as he fell down, down, down. Knowing what would happen next, Bilbo curled up and screamed. He screamed in terror until his heart burst with the effort and he knew he would reach the bottom._

Bilbo woke up screaming, his fist flying directly at Dwalin’s face.

O.o.O

Dwalin’s eyes snapped open. He listened intently to the heavy sound of his brother’s snores and the creaking of the ship. Nothing in the room should have woken him at this later hour but something had. Sitting up, Dwalin looked around himself at the dark room. Nothing had been moved while the Elves had repaired it or taken away, but something was off. Something didn’t sit right with the Dwarf.

Throwing his legs over the bed, Dwalin stood. He moved to lean his ear over Balin’s mouth but no strange sounds came from his older brother who – as usual – slept like a rock. Nothing was unusual about that, but something just wasn’t right. He could _feel_ it. Deciding it wasn’t in the room, Dwalin left and shut the door quietly behind him. The hall of the sleeping quarters were silent but for the soft snores behind closed doors. Several lamps hung from the ceiling, swaying in time with the ship’s rumbling. Dwalin had turned to return to his room when he heard it. Pausing, the Dwarf listened. A muffled shriek echoed from the room beside Dori, Nori, and Ori’s. It was the Hobbit.

Steeling himself, Dwalin moved across the hall to open the door. Bilbo was asleep on his bed, entangled in the sheets and thrashing against some unseen monster. Dwalin would have left the Hobbit to fight his own nightmares if Bilbo hadn’t tossed in that moment. An arm fell into Dwalin’s view, an arm littered with a familiar red color. Terror filling his heart, Dwalin darted to the Hobbit’s bed. The moment his hands touched the Hobbit Bilbo’s eyes flew open and he screamed something awful, throwing a fist at Dwalin’s face. Dwalin barely had a moment to grab it before Bilbo was struggling in his grip.

“Calm down, laddie,” Dwalin growled. He leapt up onto the bed and sat on Bilbo’s hips, trying to keep the Hobbit down. Bilbo screeched again and threw his weight just enough to topple them off the bed. Using his military training, Dwalin rolled them over before Bilbo could recover and pinned down the Hobbit with his weight. Bilbo gasped underneath him, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

“It’s alright,” Dwalin said in his gravelly voice. The wrists in his grip trembled slightly and Bilbo shuddered with every breath. Slowly, the Hobbit calmed down enough to be coherent. He blinked up at Dwalin in momentary confusion before his cheeks flushed.

“D-Dwalin,” Bilbo squeaked out, his voice hoarse from his screaming. Dwalin didn’t move from his position on the Hobbit as he spoke.

“Aye.”

“Wh-What are you doing?” Bilbo asked.

“You were havin’ a nightmare,” Dwalin told him. “I tried to wake you up but you attacked me.” The flush grew past Bilbo’s cheeks and up to his ears.

“I-I’m sorry!” Bilbo said quickly. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”

“I know you didn’t, laddie,” Dwalin said. The two fell into an uncomfortable silence before Bilbo wriggled slightly.

“Could you maybe, um, get off me please?” he asked. Dwalin watched him for a moment before he nodded and stood slowly, moving to turn the room’s lights on. Bilbo blinked in the sudden brightness, raising a hand to shield his eyes. Dwalin’s eyes narrowed at the sight of his arms littered with bite-marks; bite-marks that matched Bilbo’s teeth perfectly.

“Are they the same ones?” Dwalin asked knowingly, recognizing the signs easily. Bilbo blinked up at him in confusion and lowered his arms.

“I don’t kn-.”

“Your nightmares,” Dwalin said. Moving to crouch before Bilbo, he took the Hobbit’s arm in his hands and pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. The bite-marks traveled up Bilbo’s arms, only stopping at his elbows. “You’ve been bitin’ yourself to stop from screamin’.”

“I-I . . .”Bilbo said helplessly. Under Dwalin’s stern gaze he withered. “Yes, they’re different sometimes but they always end the same way.”

“How so?” Dwalin asked. He saw Bilbo’s hesitation, saw the Hobbit curling in on himself inside, and understood immediately. Bilbo didn’t have amnesia. He was faking it. In a situation like this Dwalin would have rather gotten Balin or Dori but both were sleeping. It left him to the task of cracking the Hobbit’s façade. Sitting down opposite, Bilbo, he opened his palms.

“Look,” Dwalin said. Obeying, Bilbo leaned forward slowly to see the tattoos etched into Dwalin’s palms. He frowned at the unrecognizable Dwarvish ruins. “They say _hulhaj_ and the other says _gajut_.”

“What do they mean?” Bilbo asked curiously.

Dwalin shook his left hand. “ _Hulhaj_ means shame,” he said then shook his right hand. “ _Gajut_ means forgive.” Bilbo frowned and sat back, confusion in his eyes. Dwalin licked his lips before continuing. He had never told anyone else about his history before but for Balin and the crew. “I was part of the Khazad military. I fought in Azanulbizar and saw many good Dwarves die there. Halfway through my military career I led a platoon of Dwarves into a trap . . . I was the only one to survive.” Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock. “I was discharged honorably for having fought on Moria.”

“What happened?” Bilbo asked in a soft voice.

“I got low,” Dwalin continued, his eyes watching Bilbo carefully for what the Hobbit would hear next. “I blamed myself for what happened to those Dwarves but I never told Balin about my feelings. I let it fester inside me until I couldn’t take anymore. The only way to escape was to throw myself down a mine shaft.” Bilbo’s hands flew to his mouth.

“You didn’t?”

“I did,” Dwalin said with a serious nod. “I woke up in the hospital with Balin towering over me looking furious and upset. He told me what had happened. The mine I had jumped into hadn’t been empty. Nori had been trying to do some shady business down there when he heard me fall. After he saw what had happened he ran for help. Oin did the surgery that saved my life that day. Balin hasn’t forgive me for it yet.”

“That’s horrible,” Bilbo whispered. Dwalin looked down at his hands, staring at the tattoos forlornly.

“Nori attacked me the moment I was free from both the hospital and Balin’s careful watch,” Dwalin said. “He and his cronies threw a bag over my head and dragged me to a tattoo parlor. They pinned me down while the artist did his work.” He waved his left hand. “Nori let me go after that, saying I had to be reminded of what I did so I would get help.”

“So he made you get a tattoo that said shame?” Bilbo asked in disbelief.

“Aye, and it worked too. I told Balin everything that had happened and he helped me get over it. A few weeks after Oin had declared me mentally healthy Nori dragged me back to the tattoo parlor for the other tattoo.” At his he rubbed his thumb against his right palm. “So I would always remember the time I brought shame down upon me but chose to forgive myself.” Silence fell between the Dwarf and the Hobbit. Dwalin’s eyes snapped up to Bilbo at the Hobbit’s nervous shift.

“I know you remember,” Dwalin said carefully. “That’s what’s hauntin’ you, isn’t it? You remember what happened on that ship and you don’t can’t forgive yourself for it.” Bilbo hesitated before he nodded slowly. “You can’t keep quiet about it. You have to tell someone or you’ll just end up hurting yourself.” He waited patiently for Bilbo to speak but no words came. The Hobbit looked ready to bolt from the room. Dwalin had just given up for a hopeless case when Bilbo suddenly launched himself at the Dwarf sobbing.

“I-It was horrible!” Bilbo sobbed into Dwalin’s chest. “H-How could someone d-do that?”

.o.

_Bilbo tore down the hallway, his feet pounding on the metal. Gunshots rang behind him and screams echoed through the ship. Undecipherable words were thrown back and forth in a strange clicking sound Bilbo had never heard before. The Hobbit didn’t have any time to wonder about as he threw himself down a set of stairs, through a hall, and into an engine room. The familiar whirling device had slowed in its parked gear._

_Darting behind the engine, Bilbo ducked under a bench. His right leg throbbed in time with his pule. He couldn’t remember what exactly had happened aside from strange men boarding the ship. One of the Dunadain had opened fire and suddenly the room had been filled with bullets. What had happened next had been a blur. One moment Bilbo had been in the cargo bay and the next he had been running for his life down the hall._

_The strange clicking language drew near and Bilbo gasped, drawing his legs up. A tall man with gangly limbs entered the engine room. His goggle-covered eyes scanned the room suspiciously before he clicked over his shoulder. Another man entered and Bilbo’s heart clenched. The second man pointed down at the floor, clicking to his friend, and the two made their way around the engine. They were following his trail, Bilbo realized, the trail left behind by the injury in his leg._

_Bilbo didn’t have time to fight back as cold hands grabbed at him. A cackling laughter filled his ears as he was dragged bodily out of the engine room. No matter how hard he thrashed or how loud he screamed the strange men continued to laugh. Their footsteps didn’t falter as they ascended the stairs, Bilbo’s legs knocking against each step. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his right leg and screamed again. The men – they reminded Bilbo of spiders – carried him through the cargo bay, past bodies of his friends, and onto their own ship._

_The men threw Bilbo to the cold floor, cackling and clicking to each other. One hissed and pointed to his right leg and the others screeched angrily. Hands grabbed at Bilbo, pinning him down. He watched in terror as one of the strange men lowered forceps to his injured leg. He screamed in pain and thrashed, held still by the men’s hands. Finally the bullet was tossed aside and the hands drew back. One of the men cocked his gun and fired it at Bilbo. Instead of a bullet, though, a dart struck the Hobbit in the shoulder. Bilbo’s body reacted faster than he could have thought possible. His muscles relaxed and he found himself helpless to men who changed his clothes for a pair of beige pants and carried him to a silver crate. There they lowered him in and shut the lid._

_It was the worst moment of Bilbo’s life. He lay in a crate nearly too short for him, trapped in a paralyzed body. A hiss sounded throughout the crate and freezing air hit Bilbo’s bare skin. He was helpless as the crystals invaded his lungs and every breath became harder and harder. Until, at last, black dots swarmed over Bilbo’s vision and his eyes slipped closed to a long, dreamless sleep._

.o.

The story broke Dwalin’s heart. Bilbo had been abducted from a ship where he had watched his friends die. Locked away on a dangerous ship, he had awoken on another to find himself among a crew where he was not welcome. A crew who should have been helping him heal, not pushing him away.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dwalin drew the sobbing Bilbo into his arms. He held the Hobbit against his chest for several minutes until Bilbo had calmed down enough to small hiccups. Drawing back, Dwalin looked down at the Hobbit’s blotched face.

“Are you alright?” Dwalin asked. Bilbo nodded at first, paused for a moment, and then shook his head. “I didn’t think so,” Dwalin muttered, pulling Bilbo back into a hug. He waited until the Hobbit had stopped trembling to ease him back to the floor. Bilbo wiped at his nose with his sleeve, sniffling pitifully.

“I-I’m sorry,” the Hobbit croaked out.

“For what?” Dwalin asked gruffly. Bilbo winced at that and he softened his tone. “There’s nothin’ you should be sorry about. I’m the one who should be apologizin’. You’ve been sufferin’ this entire time and I’ve been too blind to see it. I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s not your f-fault,” Bilbo hiccupped.

“You’re wrong,” Dwalin argued. “It is my fault. It’s my job to watch over every member of this crew and protect them. That should have included you from the start.” Bilbo looked up at him with watery eyes and Dwalin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bilbo, I promise I can do better.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered, burrowing back into Dwalin’s chest. The Dwarf could only smile and pull him back in for another hug.

“Do you always dream of the men?” Dwalin asked. He felt Bilbo nod and heard his voice muffled by Dwalin’s shirt.

“This time was different.”

“How so?” Dwalin asked. Bilbo’s trembling returned and he tightened his grip protectively.

“I dreamed of the Fell Winter,” Bilbo squeaked out. Dwalin frowned in confusion. He remembered Gandalf talking about the Fell Winter but it still didn’t make any sense to him. “I-I was stupid,” Bilbo said, fresh tears in his voice. He pulled back so Dwalin could hear him better.

“What happened?” Dwalin asked cautiously. His heart sank as tears ran down Bilbo’s cheeks.

“I-I went out to get wood,” Bilbo said in a hushed voice. “B-But I went too far into the forest and lost my way. The wolves found me before I could escape.” At this, Bilbo shifted out of Dwalin’s grip. The Dwarf watched helplessly as the Hobbit pulled down one corner of his pants’ hem. A jagged scar ran along Bilbo’s hip and around to the other side.

“They caught you,” Dwalin breathed. Bilbo nodded slowly before collapsing into tears again. Dwalin pulled him back down into their hug. “How did survive?”

“G-Gandalf came,” Bilbo sobbed out. “H-He stopped the wolves and saved my life.” Dwalin pressed his face against the top of Bilbo’s head and exhaled hard.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have gone through that.” Bilbo sobbed harder into Dwalin’s shirt. Dwalin let him do it, stroking the Hobbit’s arms soothingly. His eyes fell on Bilbo’s arms and he frowned. He didn’t like the looks of those bite-marks.

“Come on,” Dwalin said, standing and pulling Bilbo to his feet. Bilbo sniffled once more and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Dwalin led him out of the Hobbit’s bedroom and into the one he shared with Balin, flicking the lights on.

“W-Wait,” Bilbo said. Dwalin turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Bilbo pointed at the snoring Balin and Dwalin snorted.

“My brother sleeps like a rock,” Dwalin said. “The ship could blow to pieces and he wouldn’t wake up.” Bilbo didn’t look altogether convinced but he moved to sit on Dwalin’s bed as the dwarf instructed him to. Going to his dresser, Dwalin grabbed the first-aid kit he had stashed away in there. He returned to Bilbo and began to dress the Hobbit’s wounds.

“What about the rest of your tattoos?” Bilbo asked curiously after a moment or two. Dwalin spared him a glance from smearing antibiotic on the bite-marks before he answered.

“They’re a history of our people,” Dwalin said. “They speak of Erebor and Azanulbizar.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said before silence fell between them. “I don’t think I could get a tattoo.” Dwalin looked up at him in confusion and he flushed. “I-I just think it would hurt too much.”

“It’s not too bad,” Dwalin said, moving on to wrap Bilbo’s arms in gauze. “There’s a bit of pain in the beginning but you get over it eventually.” Bilbo made a noise of disagreement and Dwalin couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his face. He finished quickly with Bilbo’s left arm and the Hobbit folded his hands in his lap.

“Thank you, Master Dwalin,” he said softly, not looking up from his lap. Dwalin ruffled his hair as he would a dwarfling’s. “I-I’ll just be heading back to bed now.” Bilbo hopped off the bed only to find himself lifted onto it once more.

“Lay down,” Dwalin ordered. “You’ll have nightmares if you sleep alone again.” Bilbo’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to argue but Dwalin gave him his best stern glare. It worked like a charm, all the fight fleeing Bilbo in seconds. The Hobbit scooted back to lay on the bed. Dwalin flicked the light switch off before climbing into bed. Wrapping his arms around the Hobbit, he drew Bilbo close.

“Good night, Master Dwalin,” Bilbo whispered.

“Good night, Bilbo,” Dwalin said. He waited until Bilbo’s breathing had evened out before he allowed himself to slip into sleep.

And in the morning if Balin was surprised to find Dwalin and Bilbo sleeping in the same bed, he didn’t say anything of it.


	19. Medics and Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm . . . do I need to be putting disclaimers at the beginning of all the chapters?

**Medics and Moments**

When Dwalin awoke the next morning he left Bilbo to sleep in. The Hobbit deserved a bit of extra sleep, he felt, especially after his rough beginning of the night. The dark circles under Bilbo’s eyes spoke for themselves in his peaceful sleep. Dwalin would give him an extra ten minutes of sleep, maybe twenty, before he allowed anyone to wake Bilbo up.

Balin and Thorin were the only other crew members awake when Dwalin entered the dining area. His captain grunted a good morning, only on his first cup of coffee, and Balin nodded a greeting over a bowl of oatmeal. Dwalin grabbed a mug and filled it with the strong brew of coffee before falling into the seat beside Balin. The first brew was always strong, nearly twice as strong as any normal brew, to give the Dwarves a swift kick in the morning. None of the three Dwarves spoke for several minutes as they sipped their coffee.

“I noticed the Hobbit’s room was empty this morning,” Thorin said in his deep morning voice. Dwalin grunted noncommittally. “And Balin told me he was in your bed.” The words hung in the air for several seconds before Dwalin let his head fall on the table with a nasty _thunk_.

“It’s too early for this,” he grumbled out.

“What was the Hobbit doing in your bed?” Thorin asked. Dwalin glared at Balin out of the side. His brother had the grace to look ashamed over the rim of his coffee cup.

“I was merely commenting on the strangeness of it,” Balin said in his defense once he had lowered the coffee mug. Sitting back in his chair, Dwalin crossed his arms. “You never liked Bilbo in the beginning.”

“So what was he doing in your bed?” Thorin asked.

“What was who doin’ in whose bed?” Bofur asked as he descended the stairs. A glaring Thorin was given a playful shrug and Dwalin a pat on the head. Several fingers had been broken in previous years due to overzealous morning greetings, but the incidents had done nothing to stop Bofur.

“That is none of your business,” Thorin said stiffly. Bofur looked up at him from the open coffee carafe. The engineer and captain locked eyes for several seconds before Bofur split into a grin.

“I’ll hear about it eventually,” he said pointedly. “It’s a small ship.” Sauntering to a chair at the head of the table, he fell into it and propped his heels on another. The coffee carafe remained clutched in his hands, half-full of the strong brew. “So who’s sleepin’ with who?” Bofur asked as he took a swig from the carafe.

“Bilbo was in Dwalin’s bed when I awoke this morning,” Balin said. Bofur choked on the coffee, the drink spewing across the table. Swearing, Thorin grabbed a towel to wipe off his arm. Dwalin glared at his older brother who smiled sheepishly at him.

“What was Bilbo doin’ in yer bed?” Bofur asked Dwalin in shock. “Ya don’t even like him.”

“He had a nightmare last night,” Dwalin began, but Bofur cut him off there.

“Nightmares?” the engineer repeated, swishing the carafe nervously. “I thought the Elves fixed that.”

“The Elves could only help him so much,” Balin said. “Lord Elrond did warn Gandalf that if we removed Bilbo their work could be undone. It could take several months with the Elves for Bilbo to heal.”

“Speakin’ of Gandalf,” Dwalin stated.

“Oi,” Bofur said with a pointed finger. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Bilbo had a nightmare,” Dwalin said. “I woke him up, we talked, and then I had him sleep in my bed so he wouldn’t have another one.”

“What did you two talk about?” Balin asked curiously. Dwalin didn’t answer, his eyes falling on his palms. Balin followed his gaze and his mouth snapped shut.

“Nothing else happened?” Thorin asked Dwalin who shook his head. “Very well, have Oin give the Hobbit another sedative tonight to help him sleep.” He stood, prepared to leave when Dwalin spoke up.

“Thorin.” The captain paused, his hand on the back of his chair. “I don’t think givin’ Bilbo a sedative is goin’ ta help him sleep.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Thorin asked.

Dwalin hesitated before speaking. “I think we should have Oin take a look at him,” he said. “Get a physical and mental examination.”

“That would be a good idea,” Balin agreed. “It would be no good to send an injured Hobbit into a dragon’s lair.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Bofur said, his feet falling to the floor. “Doesn’t Bilbo get a say in this? What if he doesn’t want an examination?”

“It does not matter what he wants,” Thorin told his engineer stiffly. “Oin has experience dealing with mental unstable patients, he will know how to handle the Hobbit. Dwalin, get him to the medical bay for Oin.” Dwalin nodded as Bofur gaped like a fish. Thorin left the room and descended the stairs to the cargo bay, undoubtedly to practice.

“Ya can’t just throw Bilbo back inta the sick bay,” Bofur said to Balin and Dwalin. “He hates bein’ in there.”

“I am sorry, laddie,” Balin said. “But this is important. It would be better to find any problems now before they could cause any trouble.” Bofur looked between him and his brother helplessly before he threw his hands up. The carafe was abandoned on the table and Bofur stormed down the sleeping quarters. A few moments he later he returned with an exasperated expression on his face.

“He is missing?” Balin guessed. Bofur nodded and he sighed. “Might as well search the ship. Dwalin, you search the cargo bay. Bofur and I will check these two floors.

“Alright,” Dwalin said as he stood. Hopefully Thorin wouldn’t ask too many questions while he searched the pods. He heard Bofur’s last words as he descended the stairs.

“Maybe we need ta get him a bell.”

O.o.O

“Bif, get up!” Bofur’s voice carried down through the hatch. Bifur rolled over in his bed with a groan and a rude hand gesture. “Bif, up!”

“ _I’m sleeping!_ ” Bifur shouted back up in rough Khuzdul. He heard Bofur’s curse and something clanged down through the hatch.

“I need yer help,” Bofur said.

“ _If you broke the engine again I’m not fixing it_ ,” Bifur warned his cousin. Rolling over, he saw the monkey wrench that had obviously been thrown down. His room, unlike Bofur’s, remained organized with everything in its proper place. Even his prized boar spear had a special place on the wall above his bed.

“I didn’t break the engine,” Bofur grumbled. “I’ve never broken the engine before.” Bifur narrowed his eyes. He disagreed with that. “Bilbo’s gone missin’ again. We’re searchin’ the ship.”

“ _Dammit_ ,” Bifur swore. Rolling out of bed, he shoved his feet into the boots and laced them up. “ _Is he in the cargo bay again?”_ he asked.

“We don’t know,” Bofur said. “But I need ya ta check the engine room while I check the cockpit.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Bifur said. “ _As long as he doesn’t fall out of the rafters again._ ” He heard Bofur grumble in agreement before his cousin’s footsteps faded away. Clambering up the ladder, Bifur made his way into the engine room.

The engine spun lazily in its cradle. The Elves had done a neat job of replacing each broken part, even touching up the older pieces. Bifur hadn’t heard the ship purr this quietly since he had first boarded her. The bright lights of the engine room swung lightly in sync with the ship’s rumbling. Glancing around the tool shelf against the wall, Bifur found the tight space empty. It was too small anyway, even for a Hobbit.

Bifur walked around the engine and behind the cradle. Bofur had granted it as his cousin’s own space the first day on the ship. According to him, Bifur needed a place where he could relax and trust that no one would annoy him. Bifur had installed a workbench along the wall to hold tools when he was working on that side and books when needed. Most of the space underneath the workbench had been filled with crates and boxes but for one spall area at the end of the bench. Bifur smiled at the sight of two maroon coattails poking out from under the workbench.

Walking down the length of the workbench, Bifur crouched to be level with the Hobbit. Bilbo had his back turned to the Dwarf, his hands clapped over his ears. The translators he normally wore had been placed on the floor beside Bifur’s right boot. Bifur gave a silent thank-you that he didn’t accidentally step on them. Bofur would have been horrified. Reaching out, Bifur tapped the Hobbit on the shoulder. Bilbo reacted almost comically: squealing in surprise and leaping, his head hitting the bottom of the workbench hard. Bifur winced sympathetically as a string of words left Bilbo’s lips. He didn’t know what they meant, but they couldn’t have been nice. Bilbo turned to look at him and his eyes widened.

“ _Hello_ ,” Bifur said, wiggling his fingers. Bilbo continued to stare at him in shock. Slowly his mouth closed and he swallowed hard. Scooping up the translators, Bifur offered them out to the Hobbit who pulled a face and shook his head. Bifur nudged his hand forward insistently. Bilbo reluctantly accepted them and slipped them into his ears. Bifur settled himself on the floor beside the Hobbit, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knees. The Hobbit and Dwarf sat in an uncomfortable silence before Bifur finally cocked his head.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Bilbo finally said. “I-I know this is usually your place, but I needed someplace to hide.” _No,_ Bifur thought to himself. _You need a place to call your own._ He didn’t bother speaking, though. He knew the Hobbit wouldn’t be able to understand him. Instead he tapped Bilbo on the nose to get his attention and cocked his head, pulling a confused face.

“They want to send me back to the medical bay,” Bilbo explained. “I don’t want to go back in there.” Bifur nodded in understanding. It had taken both Bombur and Bofur to drag him to the hospital for the first few months of therapy. He still shuddered when Oin treated him.

“I don’t want to go,” Bilbo muttered, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I won’t go back in there.” Bifur’s eyes fell on Bilbo’s bandage-wrapped arms and he frowned. Tapping Bilbo’s arm gently, he cocked his head once more. Bilbo smiled at him sadly.

“You need a sign for ‘why’,” he told Bifur. A twinkle in his eye, Bifur made the Iglishmek sign for the word. Bilbo blinked once and Bifur did it again. Realization dawned in the Hobbit’s eyes. He repeated the move with a whispered, “why?” Bifur nodded, making the sign once more before tapping Bilbo’s arm. Bilbo glanced down at the bandages and blushed.

“I-I had a nightmare last night,” he said, glancing up at Bifur. Sensing a chance, the Dwarf made the sign for ‘nightmare’ and Bilbo’s smile grew slightly. “I guess I was biting my arms to stop myself from screaming. Dwalin found me and he . . . he let me sleep with him for the rest of the night.”

‘Why?’ Bifur signed. Bilbo looked up at him and he thought it through before continuing. He mimed taking his pule and getting a shot before pointing at Bilbo and shaking his head. ‘Why, no?’ he signed.

“Why don’t I want to go see Oin?” Bilbo asked, and Bifur nodded enthusiastically. Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he continued. “I-I don’t like being in that room. It brings back bad memories.” Bifur scratched his beard as he thought how to continue. How could he explain to Bilbo it wouldn’t be a permanent thing?

“Bif”?” Bofur’s voice caused both Bifur and Bilbo to jump in surprise. Bilbo struck his head once more, cursing quietly to himself. He gave Bifur a pleading look before tucking himself back under the bench. Standing slowly, Bifur grabbed a heavy wrench from the workbench and walked back around the engine. Bofur stopped at the sight of his armed and dangerous cousin, his hands raising peacefully.

“Heya, Bif,” Bofur chuckled nervously. “What are ya doin’ with that wrench?” Bifur tapped the wrench against the palm of his hand, watching Bofur intently. “Look, we just want ta help Bilbo.”

“ _Bilbo doesn’t like the medical bay,_ ” Bifur told his cousin who nodded.

“I told Thorin that already,” Bofur said. “But he wouldn’t listen. He said Bilbo needs ta be looked at by Oin.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Bilbo’s voice carried around the whirring engine but he didn’t come out of his hiding place. Bofur made to step forward, only stopped by Bifur’s hand to his chest.

“ _My space_ ,” Bifur growled to his cousin.

“Bif,” Bofur started, but Bifur cut him off with another growl.

“ _My space_ ,” he repeated. “ _You leave me alone when I’m there._ ”

“But this is Bilbo we’re talkin’ about,” Bofur said. “I just want what’s best fer Bilbo. We all do.” Bifur stared at his cousin for several seconds. On the one hand he could easily frighten Bofur off with a good roar. On the other hand Bofur could return with Gloin or Dwalin in tow and drag Bilbo off to the medical bay. Giving Bofur the universal ‘one-moment’ sign, Bifur disappeared back around the engine.

Bilbo poked his head out from under the workbench. He watched as Bifur crouched beside him once more before speaking.

“Is he gone?” Bilbo asked.

“No, I’m still here,” Bofur called back.

“ _Shut up!_ ” Bifur shouted over his shoulder. Turning back to Bilbo, he did the one thing he never allowed anyone else to do. He took Bilbo’s hand and placed it on the ax embedded in his hand. Bilbo stiffened at first; and when Bifur didn’t release his hand he slowly relaxed. Bifur tried to pass on all his feelings of trust through that one touch. His idea worked. Bilbo nodded quietly to himself and crawled out from under the workbench. Bifur released his hand to help the Hobbit to his feet, guiding Bilbo back to Bofur.

“There ya are,” Bofur said, brightening up. “We’ve been lookin’ fer ya all over the ship!”

“Have you?” Bilbo asked meekly. Bifur placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as the Hobbit shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“It’s just a check-up,” Bofur said reassuringly. “Thorin just wants ta make sure yer healthy as an ox before ya go doin’ anythin’ dangerous.”

“ _Like falling out of rafters,_ ” Bifur growled. Bofur nodded in agreement.

“Aye, Bif’s right. Falling out of the rafters wasn’t a good plan.”

“That wasn’t my idea!”

“We know,” Bofur said, ruffling Bilbo’s hair. “We just like teasin’ ya. Now come on, Oin’s waitin’ fer us down in the medical bay.” Bilbo followed Bofur slowly, Bifur close behind. They arrived at the medical bay to find Oin preparing several instruments. The medic didn’t even notice their arrival until Bofur fiddled with his hearing aids and he turned around.

“Ah, there you are, laddie,” Oin said happily. Bifur pressed a hand to Bilbo’s back as the Hobbit stepped back slightly. When Bilbo looked up at him he tapped his ax reassuringly, hoping to get the point across. Bilbo nodded slowly and moved to sit on the examination table as Oin requested.

“Don’t ya worry about a thing,” Bofur told Bilbo happily. “Oin won’t have ya in here fer too long and then Nori and I can teach ya how ta play cards.”

“I’m afraid this could take a few hours,” Oin said. He patted Bilbo comfortingly on the knee. “Thorin wants me to give you a mental examination as well, just to check for any PTSD or the likes.”

“A-Alright,” Bilbo said meekly.

“Why don’t we just start by taking your blood pressure,” Oin suggested. He helped Bilbo remove his shirt before wrapping a sphygmomanometer around his upper arm. A stethoscope was pressed against Bilbo’s arm as he pumped the sphygmomanometer.

Bifur watched the entire process silently. Oin scribbled notes on a clipboard, muttering to himself. He took Bilbo’s heart rate next and then had the Hobbit hop off the table to weight him and take his height.

“Three feet eight inches,” Oin commented. He looked at Bilbo. “Is that normal for a Hobbit?”

“The average is about three foot six,” Bilbo said with a wry grin. “I’m afraid my weight is a little lower than average, though.”

“I’m sure being around the Elves helped with that problem more than we did,” Oin commented, turning to write on the clipboard.

“They did try to get me back on my routine meal schedule,” Bilbo mused. He blinked at the three confused expressions aimed at him. “We eat about seven meals a day.”

“Seven!” Bofur exclaimed.

“Yes,” Bilbo said slowly. “First breakfast, second breakfast, tea-time, elevensies, lunch, dinner, and supper . . . and sometimes a snack in between.”

“Bless me, why wasn’t I born a Hobbit?”

“ _Because you would have been fat,_ ” Bifur growled at his cousin.

“Oi!”

“That’s enough, you two,” Oin said sternly. “I’ll have you leave if you keep acting like this.” Bifur snapped his mouth shut instantly and straightened up. Bilbo relaxed slightly from where he had stiffened at Oin’s words, not wanting to be left with the healer. He tensed once more, though, when Oin approached him with a small needle.

“What’s that for?” Bilbo asked.

“I just need a blood sample,” Oin said, patting Bilbo on the knee. “It’s nothing to worry too much about.” He waited patiently, allowing Bofur to talk animatedly with Bilbo, before he pricked the Hobbit’s middle finger. The Hobbit yelped slightly in surprise and sucked his finger, glaring at Oin’s back.

“I told you it wasn’t a problem,” Oin said. Pressing the needle into a small device, he waited for a light to flicker. “And you’re AB positive . . . although.” The medic frowned, leaning forward to read something on the machine before he shook his head. “Laddie, I’m going to need to draw more blood for a better test.”

“Wh-What?” Bilbo asked. Oin turned to him, worry in his eyes.

“I don’t like the looks of your blood,” Oin said. “I’d like to run some more tests on it so I can know for sure.” Bilbo swallowed hard, looking ready to bolt before Bifur stepped forward to place a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. When the Hobbit looked at him Bifur tapped the ax-head and nodded.

“A-Alright,” Bilbo said. He allowed Oin to ease him back on the examination table which was propped up for his comfort. Bofur fell into a chair beside him while Bifur remained standing. The process took longer than Bifur had hoped it would. Bilbo pulled faces the entire time Oin fiddled with the needle and blood bag until at last it was finished. Oin tapped a cotton ball over the small puncture and patted Bilbo’s wrist.

“Alright, I’ll just have you read this chart for me,” Oin said, pulling a vision-testing chart from a cupboard. Bilbo read the letters almost perfectly before they were too small for even an Elf to see.

“Is that all?” Bilbo asked as Oin returned the chart to its home.

“Not quite,” Oin said. “I just need you to answer a serious of questions and then you can be on your way. I need you two to leave, though.” At this he nodded to Bofur and Bifur. Bifur was prepared to argue but Bofur dragged him out, giving a cheery wave to Bilbo as they left.

“We’ll be waitin’ fer ya, Bilbo,” Bofur called. Bilbo smiled nervously and waved back. Bofur didn’t stop walking until they were safe on the first level. Only then did he wrench his arm free of Bofur’s grasp.

“What’s buggin’ ya, Bif?” Bofur asked his cousin curiously. “I’ve never seen ya act this way before.”

“ _I don’t like seeing him nervous,_ ” Bifur said grumpily. “ _It makes me nervous._ ”

“Makes you think he’s going to jump from the rafters again?” Bofur suggested, yelping when Bifur swung at him. “Hey, hey, I’m just sayin’. Bilbo gets a bit jumpy, is all. He doesn’t have anywhere on the ship ta call his own except fer his bedroom, and I don’t think he likes that very much.” Bofur’s words rang in Bifur’s ears and an idea sprang to mind. Bofur frowned suspiciously at him. “What are ya thinkin’, Bif?”

“ _Bilbo needs somewhere to call ‘safe’,_ ” Bifur told his cousin. “ _Somewhere he can go and trust we won’t annoy him_.”

“That’s brilliant!” Bofur crowed, but then his face fell. “But where would that be? Everywhere else on the ship is full. Ori uses the pods fer his work, Fili and Kili have the cockpit, and you have the engine room.” Bifur thought through his options before snapping his fingers.

“ _The rafters_ ,” he said. Bofur gave him a dubious look. “ _You said he was sitting on a platform. Perhaps we could make that safe for him to sit up there._ ”

“Like a shield?” Bofur asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Bifur said. “ _He won’t have to wear the translators up there if he doesn’t want to and he can take whatever he wants up there._ ”

“Great thinkin’, Bif,” Bofur said, clapping his cousin on the shoulder. “We can tell Thorin your idea the next time we see him.”

O.o.O

The next time Bofur and Bifur saw Thorin turned out to be when Oin called a meeting for the Dwarves. He sent Bilbo up to the cockpit to keep an eye on the monitors and to stargaze. Thorin had been dubious at first, until Oin had given him a meaningful look. Fili and Kili had given Bilbo a crash course on reading the monitors and how to not touch the controls no matter what, even if they were about to be swallowed by a black hole. Somehow, Thorin didn’t think Bilbo bought that part.

The Dwarves sat around the dining table, Oin standing at the head of it. He shifted nervously from foot to foot as Dori smacked Nori’s hand away from Gloin’s pocket. Thorin caught Oin’s eye and he nodded. Oin cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of every Dwarf in the room.

“Are your hearing aids on?” Kili asked, and Oin ignored him. “Did he forget to turn them on?”

“I can hear you just fine,” Oin snapped. Kili’s mouth clicked shut and his eyes widened. Oin took a steadying breath before continuing. “I gave Bilbo a full examination today like you wanted, Thorin.”

“What did you find?” Thorin asked, crossing his arms.

“He’s relatively healthy,” Oin said. “A bit underweight, according to Dori, but he doesn’t show any signs of malnourishment since he’s been on the ship.”

“And his mental state?”

“Fractured, to say the least,” Oin told Thorin. Bofur shifted uneasily in his chair and Kili held his breath. “He’s been severely traumatized by what happened to him. Every answer he gave me points straight to PTSD. The nightmares he’s been havin’ might not go anywhere anytime soon.” Bifur ground his teeth in frustration. How could they help a Hobbit if the problem was all in his head?

“Is there anything we can do?” Fili asked, voicing the thoughts of every Dwarf in the room.

“We can help him through the nightmares,” Oin said. “And treat him as one of our own. Hopefully over time he will heal and the nightmares will leave him.” He hesitated to continue.

“You found something else?” Thorin asked, his eyes narrowing. Oin nodded slowly.

“Yes, I took a blood sample today to learn his blood type,” Oin said. “The machine read the presence of a strange substance in his blood. I took a larger sample and tested that thoroughly after he left . . .”

“And?” Thorin prompted.

“I found traces of medicine in his blood that shouldn’t have been there,” Oin said. “It’s from a drug called _Nonfant_.” Nori frowned at that, scratching his beard.

“That’s an illegal drug,” he said. Every eye turned to him. “Not even the shadiest people sell that.”

“What does it do?” Dori asked his brother.

“It’s supposed to act as a vaccine against diseases and viruses,” Nori said. “But . . . it sterilizes the patient. That’s why it was taken off the market.” Bofur turned horrified eyes back to Oin.

“Ya don’t mean . . ?”

“Aye, the laddie is sterile,” Oin said sadly. “As well as coded. After I swabbed his wrist with iodine a small black number appeared on his wrist: 01-02-09-01.”

“What does it mean?” Fili asked fearfully. Oin could only shrug.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “But I have a feeling it’s the work of the Government, as well as the _Nonfant_.”

“Sounds like a tag number to me,” Nori muttered under his breath, shrugging when everyone looked at him. “What? I’m just saying.”

“Well we don’t need to hear what you’re ‘just saying’,” Dori snapped back. “It’s already bad enough.”

“Quiet,” Thorin said. He turned to Oin. “Tell Bilbo on your own time, when you deem him mentally stable enough to take the news.” Oin nodded slowly and Thorin stood to leave. “Everyone else can return to what you were doing.”

“Uh, wait, wait!” Bofur called out as the other Dwarves began to stand from the table. Eleven pairs of eyes turned to him before the Dwarves lowered themselves back into the chairs.

“What is it?” Thorin asked.

“Bif thought of a good idea,” Bofur said, grinning at his cousin. “He thought we should give Bilbo a place where he can be on his own and know we won’t bother him.”

“That does sound like a good idea,” Balin agreed, stroking his beard. “The laddie is one Hobbit trapped on a ship with thirteen Dwarves. He is bound to reach the end of his rope before we reach Erebor.”

“What did you have in mind?” Thorin asked. Bofur brightened at that.

“The rafters,” he said, raising his voice when the other Dwarves began to make their opinions very clear. “No, wait! Would ya listen ta me!” The Dwarves fell quiet again. “I have a force field we can put up on the platform. It’s from when ya let Nori put bombs in it when he gets bored.” Nori grinned at that. “I put that force field up there and he won’t be able ta roll off the platform.”

“And what if he falls from the rafters again?” Thorin asked.

“Ya saw the net the Elves hung in there,” Bofur said. “That thing is plenty strong to catch a little Hobbit if he falls.” He watched Thorin hopefully until his captain conceded with a sigh.

“Alright, is there anything else?”

“Aye,” Bofur said. “When Bilbo’s up there he’s allowed ta take the translators out. That way he won’t have to be bothered by us. But,” he said, when Thorin opened his mouth to argue. “He has ta put them back in if any of us call his name. And none of us are allowed up there unless he invites us.”

“Fine,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. “Is that all?” Bofur nodded enthusiastically. “Then you are all dismissed.” The Dwarves dispersed from the dining room, heading in different directions as their first day back on the ship dwindled to an end.


	20. Jumped and Jolted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I forgot to mention this earlier! Castor told me she loved how I portrayed Bifur. From everyone else's point of view he's never understood. But when you see the story from his point of view everything is clear. She really liked the way I did it.

**Jumped and Jolted**

The nightmares continued. Bilbo would wake in the late hours of the night to Dwalin shaking him gently. They would sit in silence for a few minutes before Dwalin would lead Bilbo back to his room and they would go back to sleep. It taxed the Dwarf, though. Bilbo could see that in the dark circles under Dwalin’s eyes and the way the Dwarf moved sluggishly around the ship. By the fourth day on the ship Bilbo told Dwalin he could stop. He saw the hesitation in Dwalin’s eyes, but with enough prodding the taller Dwarf agreed Bilbo could sleep on his own.

Never before had Bilbo regretted such a decision. The nightmares haunted him that night and he awoke with a silent scream on his lips. His arms had taken a beating from his sub-conscious biting. He would slip from the bed and make his way to the rafters where Bofur had set up a force field on the platform. He would stay there until the early hours of the morning when the Dwarves began to wake up, then he would go in search of Oin who, begrudgingly, would bandage his arms for him.

Bilbo’s nightmares were no longer in his head. He was living in one.

The ninth day on the ship brought the crew of the _Arkenstone_ to the Stone Giant belt. Fili had explained the Misty Mountains was not one planet but several that moved in a straight line together. The Stone Giant belt – named for the head-like shapes of the rocks – was a meteorite belt that ran through the a pass in the middle of the Misty Mountains. This was the pass Thorin intended to take.

Bilbo had withdrawn to his platform in the rafters sometime in the middle of the day. He could see Bofur and Nori’s worried looks but ignored them. The sight of the Stone Giant belt made him nervous, reluctantly thinking he should have taken Lord Elrond up on his offer to remain behind on Rivendell. At least he would have been safer there. It was too late to regret decisions now, though, and Bilbo wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He was tired of the stubbornness of Dwarves for the day and their pitying looks.

“Bilbo,” a guttural voice shouted. Bilbo paused in the action of kicking his heels against the platform. Rough words in Khuzdul were spoken and his name followed again. “Bilbo!”  Rolling over, Bilbo peeked over the edge to see Gloin. The Dwarf made a motion to his ears and gave Bilbo a meaningful look. Reluctantly, Bilbo took the translators from his pockets and slipped them into his ears. He waved down at Gloin to let the Dwarf know and Gloin nodded.

“Can I come up?” Gloin called. Bilbo considered the Dwarf’s weight dubiously before he nodded.

Fili, Kili, Bofur, Ori, and Nori were light enough to carry themselves through the rafters with ease. They had even started a game they called “Spider in the Net”. They would run along the rafters with Bilbo, tossing a ball between them. If anyone found themselves knocked off the rafters and into the strong net below they had to try and get back into the rafters as quickly as they could or they would be grabbed. Dwalin and Bifur had joined in the game as the ‘Spiders’. They would crawl onto the net the moment someone fell and try to grab them for, as the Dwarves said, a hungry spider’s lunch.

Bilbo could understand those five running through the rafters without a care in the world. But how Gloin managed to haul himself the hooks in the wall and through the rafters, he would never know. Gloin may not have moved as quickly as the younger Dwarves, but he moved with a surety. He moved with his weight in the center, each step resounding heavily through the rafters. Bilbo had to give him points for bravery as Gloin stepped through the barrier and sat down beside him.

“It was kind of Thorin to give you this place,” Gloin said once he had settled down. Bilbo made a noise of agreement but didn’t say anything. He half expected Gloin to stop there and for them to sit in silence as the other Dwarves often did, but he didn’t. “I have a lad of my own, you,” Gloin said, and Bilbo looked at him in confusion. “Gimli, he’s sixty-two years old.”

“Then he’s almost an adult,” Bilbo said. Gloin nodded at that, leaning back on his hands. “Is that why he isn’t on the ship.”

“Somewhat,” Gloin said. “My wife wanted Gimli to remain behind on the Blue Mountains and learn smithing. She didn’t want him getting hurt on our dangerous journeys.”

“Don’t you miss him?” Bilbo asked.

“Course I do,” Gloin said with a chuckle. “Our journeys rarely take us to the Blue Mountains. But I talk to them through the Vein.” Bilbo looked at him in confusion and the Dwarf explain. “The Vein, I think the Men call it the Web.”

“Like a spider’s web?” Bilbo asked, his confusion growing. Gloin laughed again and patted him roughly on the back.

“Not at all,” the Dwarf said. “But I think that’s where they got the idea. The Web, the Vein, they’re both the same thing. Have you ever heard of the internet?”

“Of course,” Bilbo said incredulously. “Everyone’s heard of that.” Gloin gave him a knowing look and he frowned. “Fine, Dori taught me about it yesterday.”

“Dori’s giving you lessons about the universe, then?” Bilbo nodded at that. “Probably a good idea. Wandering around blind won’t get you anywhere but lost.”

“I’m already lost,” Bilbo said in a soft voice. A hot feeling pricked at his eyes and he averted his gaze from Gloin. Strong arms wrapped around him comfortingly.

“You can’t keep them away, laddie,” Gloin told the Hobbit. “Those nightmares will keep on coming until they eat you whole.”

“That’s what Dwalin said,” Bilbo said through hot tears. “B-But I’m scared. I keep dreaming that I’m falling and no one will help me.”

“It looks like you’re already moving blind,” Gloin said. Bilbo looked up at him and the Dwarf wiped away his tears. “Every Dwarf on this ship wants to help you. You’re part of the crew now, not just some straggler we picked up. And this crew takes care of their own.” Bilbo’s eyes widened in surprise and Gloin ruffled his hair. “You’ve been suffering alone long enough, Bilbo Baggins. Why not let us help you through your nightmares.” Bilbo had opened his mouth to speak when Fili’s voice carried up from below.

“Gloin! Bilbo!” The Dwarf and Hobbit leaned over to see Fili armed with their axes and small sword, Balin had called it a letter opener when he had seen Bilbo’s new sword. “We’re going into the high pass, Thorin wants everyone armed.”

“Alright,” Gloin called back down. “We’ll be down there in a minute.” Fili waved back to show he’d heard him before the weapons were set against the wall. Gloin turned to Bilbo. “Might as well head down now, laddie,” he said. Reaching for the remote, Bilbo turned the force field that kept him from falling off. It was the worst mistake he had ever made.

At that very moment the ship lurched sideways and Bilbo found himself tossed along with the movement. He barely managed to grab at a seam in the platform, his fingers screaming in protest. Gloin shouted at him to hold on as a great screeching sound filled the air and the ship was rocked again. Bilbo’s fingers slipped from the seam. His eyes widened at the familiar sensation of falling, only stopped by Gloin grabbing his right hand.

“Hang on, Bilbo!” Gloin shouted over the screeching. “I’ve got you!”

“Gloin,” Bilbo whimpered. “What’s going on?” His answer came as the rest of the crew swarmed into the cargo bay.

“Goblins!” Dwalin shouted up to Gloin and Bilbo. Bofur’s eyes widened at the sight of Bilbo hanging from the platform.

“What are Goblins doing all the way out here?” Gloin shouted back. Bilbo wished the Dwarf would pull him up instead of leaving him dangling like a ragdoll.

“These are the Misty Mountains,” Balin said, hefting his sword. “The planets are crawling with them.”

“But they never wander this far out,” Gloin said. “Not even into the passes.”

“There is no time to argue,” Thorin barked and the crew fell silent. “They hit our ship with an EMP blast. We are dead in the water until it wears off.”

“Are we going to die?” Ori asked quietly. Dori hushed him as Nori ruffled his hair soothingly.

“Where is that wizard when you need him?” Dwalin growled out. “Trust Gandalf to take too long to reach us.”

“He will come, brother,” Balin said. “Until then we will have to face these Goblins on our own.”

“Gloin,” Bilbo muttered, his voice lost in the sea of Khuzdul. A dull ache had begun to throb in his shoulder.

“Whatever comes through that door,” Thorin began. He never finished his sentence though.

At that very moment the doors of the cargo bay were ripped open. Gloin cursed and Bilbo found himself unceremoniously dropped into the net below. This was nothing like ‘Spider in the Net’. Horrible screeches filled the cargo bay below, accompanied by Dwarvish shouts. Metal rang against metal and Bilbo shut his eyes tight. He didn’t hear the sounds of scrabbling or feel the net dip underneath a new weight until the hands were on him. Cold, slimy hands grabbed at his arms leg. Laughter rang through his ears as he screeched loudly. Something struck him over the head and everything blurred together. Furious shouts rang through the ship. Dimly he was aware of being pulled backward, the Goblins maneuvering through the net faster than any Dwarf could.

Reaching the edge of the net, the Goblins threw Bilbo down to the level below. The fall was blissfully short but Bilbo still cried out as he hit the metal grating. A heavy body landed next to his, Gloin he was sure. He felt the Dwarf’s hands grab at him. Something slipped under his shirt, cold against his chest. His sword, Bilbo realized dimly, as Gloin managed to tighten his belt around his jacket. The sword pressed uncomfortably against his skin in its sheath.

The slimy hands were back. They grabbed Bilbo by the hair and dragged him upward to shove him over the railing. The sensation of falling was stopped by long arms catching him and throwing him to the floor before he was grabbed and shoved forward. He heard Gloin fall behind him, saw the Dwarves in front of him being shoved onto another ship. The guttural Khuzdul and hissing Black Speech stung his ears and he clapped his hands over them, crouching in on himself. Hands grabbed him and he would have screamed, if he hadn’t been crushed against the familiar barrel of a chest.

Dwalin wrapped his arms tight around Bilbo, shielding him from the screeching Goblins. The dull pounding grew in Bilbo’s head and he was aware of being carried onto a dark ship. Most of the bulbs had blown out or been removed, plunging the room into darkness. Dwalin fell to his knees as he was shoved from behind. Bilbo felt the familiar patting of Dori’s hands and heard Nori whispering to him. The words were lost, though, as Bilbo’s eyes flickered shut. Goblins. Why did it have to be Goblins?

O.o.O

Bilbo’s eyes flickered open and for a moment he thought he had gone blind. Everything around was black and cold. Panic rose in his chest and he prepared to scream when a hand clapped over his mouth. Fingers carded through his hair. Hands pressed comfortingly against his back and hips. He was on his stomach, Bilbo realized, his face pressed into the floor.

Turning his head, he found himself facing Dwalin’s back. A look to the other side showed him pressed up against Dori. Nori sat by Bilbo’s head, leaning against Dwalin while his feet were propped on Dori’s knee. His legs shielded Bilbo from any view above him. Looking down, Bilbo saw Bofur’s legs sprawled over his own. Gloin and Balin sat by his feet, completely cutting off any view there. From the outside it looked as though the Dwarves merely sat close together. On the inside, though – Bilbo realized – the Dwarves were shielding him from the eyes of the Goblins.

“It’s alright,” Dori breathed into his ear. The Dwarves surrounding Bilbo made no move that he had spoken. “We’re going to get out of here.”

“How?” Bilbo spoke in a bare whisper.

“Trust us,” Nori hissed through his teeth. “We’ve been in worse before.” Bilbo burrowed against Dwalin and he felt the massive Dwarf lean back further, reassuring him.

“We’re almost there.” Dwalin’s words rumbled through his back in a soft growl. Bilbo swallowed hard and shut his eyes tight.

“Stay near us, Bilbo,” Dori whispered. “We’ll get you of here alive.”

The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an hour. The Dwarves pressed in on Bilbo as the seconds turned to minutes. Nori bumped his calf against Bilbo’s head comfortingly. Dori continued to card his hair. Bofur pressed his legs against Bilbo’s in a reassuring manner. Swallowing hard, Bilbo clenched his fist. The hilt of his sword pressed against his stomach but he didn’t draw it. He didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to himself and ruin the Dwarves’ plan.

Finally the moment came. The Goblins returned to the Dwarves with loud screeches and slapping of feet. They were the ugliest beings Bilbo had ever seen. Their paisley skin was covered with boils and warts, their funny-shaped heads perched on almost no neck. Long fingers grabbed the Dwarves, dragging them from the floor. Bilbo found himself pressed between Dori and Dwalin, Bofur and Nori on either side of him. The Goblins shunted the group along out of the ship and onto a narrow rock passage. More screams echoed around them as new Goblins joined the pack.

Sometime during the violent march Bilbo tripped on a rock. Dori’s hands missed him as he fell to the floor. The Goblins shoved Dori on before he could grab for Bilbo and the Dwarf’s dismayed cry echoed through the cavern. Bilbo curled into a tight ball on his stomach, praying no one would see him. And they didn’t. Boots and slapping feet marched past him. Several long seconds passed before Bilbo found himself alone. The sounds of boots and feet vanished into the distance, leaving him crouching on the floor.

Sitting up, Bilbo looked around himself. He stood on a narrow, stone bridge with no railing. The cavern walls around him were the largest he’d ever seen. They stretched high above, disappearing into the darkness. Ships littered the area around him. Some hung from cords that had been wrapped around them while others had been driven into the walls. It was a graveyard, Bilbo realized, a graveyard for ships the Goblins had attacked.

A terrible screeching sound drew Bilbo’s attention from the dead ships and he spun around to see a Goblin charging at him. The long-armed creature swung out, catching Bilbo in the ear. A searing pain ran through Bilbo’s ear and he felt something hot and wet run down his neck. The Goblin didn’t stop, though, it swung out again. Reaching under his shirt, Bilbo swiftly drew his glowing sword. He had never learned how to use it properly yet, but . . . wait, glowing? Bilbo stared at his sword in disbelief before he swung out to stop the Goblin’s flailing arm. The Goblin screeched and struck out again and again, shoving Bilbo back with every step. It lurched forward, wrapping its long arms around Bilbo. One moment they teetered on the edge of the bride and the next they were falling.

Bilbo’s mouth fell open in a silent scream at the terrible sensation. He felt the Goblin’s hands leave him, the creature flailing in its terror. Bilbo lost his grip on his sword as he tried to grab at something, anything. But the walls seemed to bend away from him and the Goblin’s screeches rang through his ears like laughter. The fall lasted for what felt like forever. Bilbo had just given up hope when the impact hit him hard. His body jarred painfully, sharp pain seared through his left calf, his head struck something hard, and darkness swallowed him whole.

O.o.O

Insects were crawling on him. They skittered across his skin and through his bones. Bilbo tried to swat them away but his limbs felt too heavy. His head throbbed in time with his heart, the pain dulled to a certain point. The Dwarves found him, Bilbo thought, and he was back in the medical bay with Oin. Those insects crawling on him were Bofur’s medical mites. He would wake up to find Nori grinning down at him. Balin would tell him he was safe. Bofur would crow about how they had escaped the Goblins and found him, taking him back to the ship with a stolen ship from the Goblins.

Feeling reassured, Bilbo opened his eyes. And found himself staring at a dark emptiness. No medical bay lights shone over him. No Dwarves smile down at him. No reassured words were spoken in rough Khuzdul. He was still alone, laying at the bottom of the cavern. Shifting slightly, a pain in Bilbo’s left leg caused him to freeze. The rest of his body ached dully but for this singular screaming in his leg. Looking down, Bilbo almost fainted. He didn’t know how it happened – by some sick miracle, perhaps – but his own sword had landed point first in the ground. Bilbo’s leg had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and now he was suffering from it.

Gasping hard, Bilbo forced himself into a sitting position. He reached forward and grabbed his sword’s hilt. The movement caused the sword to shift slightly. He gritted his pain against the fresh wave of pain. Gripping the hilt in sweaty palms, Bilbo breathed hard through his nose.

“One,” he whispered to himself, flexing his fingers. “Two.” He took a shuddering breath. “ _Three_.” And he yanked. If he had thought the pain of the sword in his leg was bad enough, it was nothing compared to what came next. A burning, prickling sensation of a thousand knives stabbed at his leg. Falling back, Bilbo fell back with a soundless screech on his lips. He writhed on the floor of the cavern as the pain continued for what felt like hours. Eventually it dulled down to a throbbing pain and Bilbo lay there gasping. He remained that way for several minutes until the pain in his leg had dulled to almost nothing.

Forcing himself back up, Bilbo dared to look at his leg. His pants’ leg had been stained a brilliant red, but it was the skin underneath that caught Bilbo’s attention. Where there should have been a bleeding wound was furiously red skin. It ached when he touched it softly, his fingers running over the smooth skin. Frowning, Bilbo pushed himself to his feet. He gingerly placed his weight on his leg. His limb ached quietly in protest but worked all the same.

“Bless me,” Bilbo said, using Bofur’s favorite exclamation. He only knew of one thing that could heal an injury like that and it was currently locked away in the medical bay of the _Arkenstone_. A hissing breath caught Bilbo’s attention and he ducked behind a boulder, grabbing his glowing sword.

The Goblin had fallen several yards away from Bilbo. Its breath came out in rasping gasps and it twitched in apparent pain. It wasn’t the Goblin, though, that caught Bilbo’s attention. It was the two lamp-like eyes that shone out through the darkness. A gangly creature such as he had never seen before crept out from the shadows.

“Yess,” it hissed through its teeth. “Yess, my preciouss! _Gollum! Gollum!_ ” Bilbo swallowed hard. The creature crawled forward on all fours like a beast, its skin a sickly pale in the gloom. “Yess, yess! Food, my preciouss. The nassty Goblinsess have ssent us food! _Gollum! Gollum!_ ”

The creature – Gollum, Bilbo thought – crawled over the Goblin and grabbed it by the ankles. It had only managed to drag the injured creature a few feet before the Goblin sprung forward with a terrible screech. Gollum screamed back and grabbed a rock, striking the Goblin hard on the head. A flash caught Bilbo’s eye during the tousle. It bounced away from Gollum and near Bilbo’s boulder. Several minutes passed during which Gollum hit the Goblin one more time. The Goblin fell still and he dragged it away into the darkness.

Bilbo waited until Gollum and his prey had disappeared before he crawled out from behind the boulder. His hand landed on something in the dark – a ring, he thought – and he shoved it into his vest pocket without thinking. Slowly, he crept forward, following Gollum’s voice through the cave. He was led into a smaller cavern than before. A rocky shore followed the edge of the cave, a lake lapping at it quietly. In the center of the lake was a rock where Bilbo saw the creature perched on it.

“Nassty Goblinsess,” Gollum’s voice hissed across the lake. “Too many bonesess, preciouss. Not enough meat.” Bilbo ducked behind a boulder, holding his sword in a tight grip. A terrible screeching sounded behind him and he heard Gollum screaming. The sound of a rock against flesh echoed through the cavern, Bilbo wincing. He watched as the sword in his hand flickered dead. He didn’t hear Gollum’s questioning hiss or the lap of water as he moved across the lake on his boat. The sound of slippery hands and feet slipped past his ears until suddenly the creature Gollum sprang from the rock above and landed before him.

“Bless us and splash us, preciouss, that’s a meaty mouthful!”


	21. Vaulted and Vexed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had actually started writing this chapter with a lot of similarities to the movie. And then Castor had commented on how she loved how my story followed the storyline but at the same time was so different. I ended up deleting what I had written and rewriting it completely. I love the outcome!

**Vaulted and Vexed**

Dori cried in dismay when the Goblins shoved him past Bilbo. Beside him Nori twisted around, a horrified expression on his face. His eyes turned to his older brother and Dori saw the truth in them. Bilbo had been left behind, the Goblins completely ignoring him. The Hobbit was as safe as he could be . . . for now. Dori prayed to Mahal he would stay that way.

The Goblins shoved the Dwarves down the stone bridge and into a passage. They were plunged into the black for several seconds until they came out on the other side. Dori had never seen so many Goblins before. The horrifyingly ugly creatures lined walkways all along the cavern walls. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, jeered down at the Dwarves and shouted insults. It was the largest, though, who caught Dori’s attention. He was fat, reminding the Dwarf of a spoiled child, with what must have been a tumor in his waddle of a chin. A thorny crown sat atop his fat head and he gripped a scepter in his hand. It was the Goblin King.

The Goblin King watched with absolute glee as his prisoners were dragged forward. Weapons were snatched out of the Dwarves’ hands and thrown into a pile. Dori elbowed a Goblin in the face but it did nothing to stop him from losing his sword. Shunted forward, he found himself caught in Nori’s quick hands.

“Dori,” Nori breathed. “He got away.”

“That’s no use here,” Dori whispered back. “We’re all dead here. And if we’re dead then so is he.”

“It’ll be alright,” Nori said. Anything he else he could have added was stopped by a strike to the head by a Goblin.

“That’s enough chattin’,” the Goblin snapped. Dori glared at him and straightened his coat, wrenching his arm out of a Goblin’s grip.

“Well, well, well,” the Goblin King said gleefully. “What have we here?”

“Dwarves, your malevolence,” a Goblin near Dwalin said. “We found them goin’ through the High Pass.”

“Strange for Dwarves to be traveling in this part of the System,” the Goblin King commented. “What are you doing in these parts? I want the truth, warts and all.” Dori looked to Thorin who glared at the Goblin King with disdain. The Goblin King’s eyes traveled over the Dwarves and he frowned.

“Is somethin’ wrong, your great protuberance?” a Goblin asked meekly.

“Thirteen,” the Goblin King muttered before his voice raised to a roar. “You’ve brought me thirteen! You said there were fourteen!” The Goblins around the Dwarves squealed in shock and jostled the Dwarves, counting them. Finally a Goblin turned to his king with a terrified expression.

“There were fourteen,” he said in a high, croaking voice. “We counted them on the ship. We had fourteen.”

“But there are only thirteen,” the Goblin King snarled. Hauling himself off his throne – and crushing several Goblins in the process – he lurched forward at the group. “Where is your fourteenth member?” he demanded. “Where is he?” Spit flew from the Goblin King’s mouth, spattering across the Dwarves. Dori made a face and wiped his cheek on a sleeve.

“There are only thirteen of us,” Balin said. “Your men must have miscounted somewhere along the way.”

“But there was another,” a Goblin beside Kili whined. “He was shorter, an Elf child.”

“An Elf child?” the Goblin King asked interestedly before turning to the Dwarves. “What business do Dwarves have carrying an Elf child on their ship?”

“There is no Elf child,” Balin said in desperation.

“Aye,” Bofur agreed quickly. “There’s only thirteen of us. None of ya seem ta be able ta count.” This earned him a clocking on the head with the Goblin King’s scepter. Bifur cursed in fluent Khuzdul as he caught his cousin, supporting a dazed Bofur.

“That was not necessary,” Dori shouted. “None of you Goblins have any sense.” He ducked as the scepter swung at his head, hitting Dwalin instead. The tallest Dwarf growled but didn’t make signs that it had hurt him.

“Where’s the fourteenth member?” the Goblin demanded. “Speak now, or I will kill one of you!”

“There is not another member,” Balin insisted helplessly. “We number only thirteen.” The Goblin King snarled and turned to mutter to one of his kin. The Goblin cackled excitedly and jumped from the platform, disappearing to fetch something.

“If you won’t talk,” the Goblin King said, sitting back in his throne. “We’ll make you squawk! Start with the youngest.” He pointed at a horrified looking Ori. Dori grabbed his youngest brother by the arm and pulled him close. Gloin and Dwalin closed a triangle around the youngest Dwarf, protecting him from all sides.

“Bring him to me,” the Goblin King ordered. The Goblins surrounding the crew of the _Arkenstone_ scrabbled at the Dwarves. The crew drew closer together with Ori in the middle. Punches were thrown and arms were jerked at, the result being one massive escalating fight. It would have blown into an entire brawl had Nori not spoken.

“Stop!” Nori shouted. The Goblins near him balked in surprise then looked to their king for directions. The Goblin King raised one clawed hand and the Goblins fell back. Dori held his brother close to his side. Ori trembled against him, clinging to his older brother.

“Do you have something to say?” the Goblin King asked Nori suspiciously.

“I do,” Nori said. The crew held their breath as he stepped forward. “Your Goblins didn’t miscount, there used to be fourteen of us.”

“ _Used_ to be?” the Goblin King repeated, his eyes narrowing.

“Aye,” Nori said with a nod. “One of your kin shoved our friend off the bridge in the fight. He’ll be long gone by now.”

“You lost an _Elf child_?” the Goblin King roared to his Goblins who cowered and whimpered. “You lost a precious jewel we could have sold!”

“We didn’t mean to, your massive excellency,” a Goblin squealed. “They was fighting us.”

“Call back the messenger,” the Goblin King ordered his servants. “Send out a troop to search the bottom of the caves for the Elf child.”

“Ah, but you see, he wasn’t an Elf child,” Nori said. Dori’s eyes narrowed and he heard Dwalin growl. The Goblin King turned back to Nori, his attention piqued further.

“Go on.”

“He’s a Fallohide,” Nori said. The Goblin King’s brow furrowed in confusion as he listened. “From afar, a child of the stars. We received word from a certain wizard that we needed to find this child of the stars and return him to his mother.”

“A child of the stars,” the Goblin muttered, scratching at his tumor of a beard.

“Aye, and he can go invisible if he likes,” Nori continued. “But you see, he only knows us. He doesn’t know any of your Goblins. He won’t show himself to people he doesn’t know.”

“You said he fell,” the Goblin King commented. “There is no way a child, Elf or of the stars, could survive that.”

“But you’ve never seen a child of the stars,” Nori pointed out. “He’ll likely have survived the fall.” It was a lie, the crew knew, but a clever lie to save their necks. Spreading his arms, Nori gestured to the whole of the crew. “If you let us go look for him, we can bring him back to you.” The Goblin King considered this for a long moment before muttering to himself and nodding.

“Very well,” he agreed. “There is nowhere else you can go. My Goblins would find you before you could go far.”

“Alright,” Nori said, looking back over his shoulder. He winked at Dori who frowned. What was his younger brother up to? Nori turned back to the Goblin King to gape at his next words.

“You have one hour,” the Goblin King said. “Provided you survive the fall.”

O.o.O

“Bless us and splash us, preciouss, that’s a meaty mouthful,” the creature Gollum said in his croaking voice. He advanced on Bilbo who raised his sword, the tip just barely brushing Gollum’s throat. The creature took one look at the weapon and then scuttled back.

“That’s an Elfss blade, that iss,” he spoke to himself. “But it isn’t an Elfss, no not an Elfss at all.” Turning, he looked Bilbo up and down. “What iss it, preciouss? What _iss_ it?”

“I am Bilbo Baggins of the shire,” Bilbo said slowly, lowering his sword as the threat left him. “I am a Hobbit.”

“Bagginsess?” Gollum repeated, a confused expression on his face. “Never heard of a Bagginsess before? Is it crunchy? Is it juicy?” He crawled toward Bilbo who raised his sword once more.

“I-I don’t want any trouble,” Bilbo said. “I’m just lost. I need to find a way out of here, and I need to find my friends.”

“Lost,” Gollum repeated with a cackle. “It’s lost, preciouss. Oh, it’s lost! But we know the wayss through the tunnelss. We never get lost in here.”

“Then you can show me the way out?” Bilbo asked. His heart sank as the creature Gollum cackled again.

“Why shows it the way out,” he said. “When we can _eat_ it whole?” A mad twinkling in his eyes caused Bilbo’s stomach to lurch.

“B-Because I-I am a child of the stars,” he whispered. Gollum’s expression changed from one of delight to confusion again. “And my mother would not be very happy if you ate me.”

“Mother?” Gollum repeated. “Never heard of a mother before? We mights have had one; once, yess, long ago. But no more. Now it’s only us, preciouss. _Gollum. Gollum_.” He made the sickening sound in his throat and crept away from Bilbo. “No mother for uss, no, no we don’t needs one. We don’t wants one. All we wants is juicy fish to eats. And Hobbitses.” His cold eyes turned back to Bilbo. “Lots and lots of Hobbitses.”

“I told you,” Bilbo said. “I am a child of the stars.” He watched as Gollum slithered his way up onto a boulder. The creature perched there, his hands flat on the ground and his head cocked.

“The starss,” Gollum repeated, a dangerous light in his eyes. “We hasn’t seen the starss in a long time, no. We don’t like the stars, or the sun, or the moon.”

“Then you wouldn’t like my mother very much.” Gollum’s eyes narrowed at that. “You see, my mother is the sun.”

“Aiee!” Gollum screeched, throwing a rock at Bilbo’s head. Bilbo ducked just in the nick of time and straightened back up to see Gollum’s furious expression. “Don’t speak of your mother here. Filthy sun, burnss our eyess, it does. Oh yes, cruel, cruel sun.”

“Well, my mother _is_ the sun,” Bilbo said. “And if you don’t show me the way out then she will be very angry with you. She will come down into this tunnel and burn you alive.” Gollum screeched at the thought of agony before his face lit up.

“Gameses!” he said with cackle. “Oh, let us play a gameses.”

“What? No, I don’t want to play any games. I just want you to show me the way out.”

“We shows you the way out,” Gollum offered. “If you win a game of riddless.”

“And if I lose?” Bilbo asked, dreading the answer.

“If Bagginses loses, we eats it whole and its mother doesn’t come down to burn us.” Bilbo blinked at the creature’s answer. He opened his mouth to answer then shut it again, aware of Gollum’s intent stare. He could either play the game and hopefully defeat Gollum, or he and the creature could fight, one of them dying the process. Bilbo had a feeling he knew who would win in a fight between the two of them.

“Alright,” he said at last. “A game of riddles it is. I win, you show me the way out. You win, you eat me . . . whole. Sounds fair enough to me.” Gollum’s eyes lit up with a maniacal joy.

“Well Bagginses first,” he said. “Ask us a riddle, any riddle. We knows them all.”

“Okay then,” Bilbo said. Sheathing his sword, he thought to himself. “Let me think . . . Alright here’s one.”

_What runs but never walks,_

_Often murmurs, never talks,_

_Has a bed but never sleeps,_

_Has a mouth but never eats?_

Gollum cocked his heat at that, his nose scrunching up in distaste. Several seconds passed during which he drummed his fingers on the boulder and gnashed his teeth. Bilbo watched, a spark of hope already in his chest. But then Gollum’s face lit up with realization.

“Rivers!” he cackled. “Oh, it’s the rivers!”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, his heart falling. “Your turn.”

“Yess, yess, our turn,” Gollum said gleefully. Leaping down from the boulder, he approached Bilbo who drew his sword again. Gollum stopped just short of cutting his own throat on the weapon.

_I am always hungry,_

_I must always be fed,_

_The finger I touch,_

_Will soon be red._

Bilbo frowned, rolling the words through his mind. He had never heard such a riddle before. Stepping away from the creature, Bilbo ran a hand through his hair, muttering the words to himself. A far off memory of a candle a fauntling’s curiosity surfaced and he smiled to himself.

“Fire,” he said, hearing Gollum’s angry hiss. “The answer is fire.” Gollum grumbled to himself, glaring at Bilbo with hatred. “That was an easy one. Now, let’s see . . . Ah, here’s one.”

_I drive men mad for the love of me,_

_Easily beaten, never free._

And for a moment Bilbo honestly thought he had won. Gollum’s face turned to one of such horror that there couldn’t possibly have been a way he knew the answer. The creature averted his gaze and muttered to himself, hands scrabbling against the ground.

“Well?” Bilbo asked after several minutes had passed. “Do you give up?”

“Nasty, it iss,” the Gollum creature said. “But we knowss the answer, don’t we, precious? Oh yess, gold. Gold! The Goblinses loves gold. Our turn.” Sitting back, the creature Gollum recited his own riddle.

_You heard me before, yet you hear me again,_

_Then I die, ‘till you call me again._

Bilbo frowned at the simplicity of the riddle. Surely Gollum could do better than that. He had given away the answer just by speaking.

“An echo,” Bilbo said, and Gollum hissed at him again. “That was too easy.”

“Fine,” Gollum said. “One last riddle, one last chance. Ask us a question.” He watched Bilbo pace away, his face turning hideously furious. “Ask us!” Bilbo’s free hand slipped into his pocket and he frowned.

“What have I got in my pocket?” he asked aloud, rolling the object through his fingers. Gollum screeched loudly and another rock was thrown at Bilbo’s head. This one barely hit Bilbo, whizzing past his ear. Bilbo spun around to see the furious creature.

“It’s a game of riddles,” Gollum screeched. “That’s against the rules! It’s a game of riddles!” He advanced on Bilbo who raised his sword to the creature’s throat.

“No, you said to ask you a question,” Bilbo pointed out. “And that is my question: what have I got in my pocket?” Gollum fell away from him with a furious hiss before he spun around. Bilbo raised his sword just in case.

“Three guesses, precious,” Gollum said, raising two fingers. “You must give us three guesses.”

“Very well, guess away.”

“Handses!” Gollum said, raising his own. Bilbo, who had snatched his own hand out of his pocket just before Gollum had spoken, raised his free hand too. Gollum frowned at that before scrabbling at the floor. “Bat wings . . . pebbles . . . shells . . . old bones . . . Bat wings!” he screeched to Bilbo who shook his head.

“Wrong, guess again.”

“String!” Gollum tried desperately before his face turned dark. “Or nothing.”

“Two guesses at once,” Bilbo said, shaking a finger. “And both were wrong. It looks like I win.” Gollum moaned to himself, falling back and grinding his head against the floor. “You promised to show me the way out.”

“Promises,” Gollum whined before he turned cold eyes on Bilbo. “We never promised anything, preciouss, did we?”

“But you said-.”

“We said we would eat you whole,” Gollum said, approaching Bilbo who backed away with his sword raised. Gollum’s hand disappeared behind his back and his face grew gleeful. Bilbo half expected him to leap when the creature’s face turned to shock. “Where is it?” Gollum screeched, patting at his cloth. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Bilbo asked in confusion. He watched as Gollum threw himself on the ground, hands scrabbling as he searched for something. The creature splashed at the water.

“It’s lost! Lost!”

“What have you lost?” Bilbo asked.

“Don’t ask. Not its business!” Bilbo’s confusion grew as the creature sobbed into his hands. What could Gollum possibly have lost that was making him so upset? Suddenly Gollum’s shoulders stiffened and he turned slowly to look at Bilbo. “He stoled it,” he whispered to himself. “He stoled it.”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Bilbo countered.

“What has it got in its nasty little pocketses,” Gollum hissed. “What have you got, Hobbitses? You’ve got our birthday present. _Gollum. Gollum._ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bilbo said desperately, ducking as Gollum threw another rock at him.

“My preciouss!” Gollum screeched. Scrabbling for purchase, Bilbo darted for a small crack in the wall. Slapping feet followed him as Gollum screamed his fury. “Give it back to uss! Give it back!”

Bilbo raced through the labyrinth of tunnels, not knowing where he was going. It didn’t matter, though. Getting lost was better than being eaten alive by an angry Gollum. He still didn’t understand what the creature had lost to make him so angry. Darting for a crack, Bilbo tried to slip his way through. He got caught, though, when the bronze buttons of his waistcoat caught on the rocks. Gollum’s eyes drew around the bend and the creature approached him.

“Give it back! You stole it!” he hissed, his fingers reaching for Bilbo.

Sucking in his stomach as hard as he could, Bilbo slipped through the crack. He tripped back with his right hand in his pocket and he felt the ring slip onto it. A strange stinging sensation ran through his middle finger followed by a crawling across his skin. Gollum leapt through the crack and over Bilbo, completely missing the Hobbit. Bilbo watched with bated breath as the creature scrabbled against the ground screaming. Standing slowly, he advanced on Gollum with a raised sword. He could strike now and Gollum would be gone from everyone’s lives forever. Bilbo was prepared to bring down the sword on Gollum’s throat when the creature turned. Words rang through Bilbo’s head, words Gandalf had spoken to him when he had given Bilbo the sword.

_“Courage is not about knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one.”_

Staring at the creature, Bilbo didn’t have the heart to kill him. He stepped back and sheathed his sword. Gollum whimpered, falling back on the rock.

“He stoled it! He did, preciouss, he did! We hates him forever!” Bilbo’s footsteps were masked by the screams as he tiptoed away through another tunnel. He would leave Gollum to rot down in here. Bilbo could find his own way out.

O.o.O

Bofur stared in open-mouthed shock at the boar spear ringing between his legs. Had it fallen an inch higher he would have lost a very important part of his body. Thank Mahal _that_ didn’t happen. The Dwarves around Bofur groaned as they sat up, the older ones needing help while the younger ones popped sore bones.

“That could have gone worse,” Nori commented drily as he helped Dori to his feet. Bifur grabbed the boar spear from between Bofur’s legs and looked at it fondly.

“Worse,” Dwalin repeated, supporting his older brother who looked rather dazed. “That bastard _threw_ us over the edge.”

“And our weapons with us,” Gloin added. Oin stood beside his brother, poking his own ears with a frustrated expression. Bombur hooked his arms under Bofur’s armpits and hauled his brother to his feet.

“None of us got hurt,” Nori argued. Seeing Kili holding his nose and Ori nursing a bruised shoulder, he shrugged. “Alright, fine, none of us got hurt too badly.”

“I was almost circumcised!” Bofur shouted at his friend. “I could’ve lost some very valuable jewels!” Bifur snickered at that and Bofur glared at his cousin. Nori just shrugged again.

“It’s not like you use it all that much,” he said.

“Nori!” Dori shouted while Fili and Kili roared with laughter.

“Who’s been sized?” Oin asked loudly. Stomping over to the near-deaf Dwarf, Bofur pulled a small screwdriver from his pocket and twisted the small on-off switch. Oin brightened up almost immediately and went straight to business. “Alright, who’s injured?”

“Ori and Kili,” Nori said. “But they’ll be fine. It’s Bofur you have to look at.”

“Bofur?” Oin repeated. Turning to the engineer who flushed, he looked Bofur up and down. “There’s nothing wrong with the laddie.”

“Bifur’s boar spear almost nailed his family jewels,” Nori said bluntly. Scooping up a rock, Bofur chucked it at his friend’s head just as Dori shouted.

“NORI!” Nori ducked both the rock and his older brother’s grabbing hands.

“Enough!” Thorin roared. Dori stilled in the action of strangling his younger brother. Reluctantly, he dropped Nori to the ground. “We need to find a way out.”

“But what about Bilbo?” Bofur asked. Thorin looked at him with a dark expression before turning to head down the tunnel. “Thorin, we can’t leave Bilbo!” Grabbing his mattock from the ground, Bofur raced after his captain. “What about Bilbo?”

“We said it ourselves,” Thorin said, not breaking stride during the conversation. “There is no way he could have survived the fall.” Bofur ignored the rest of the crew trying to catch up to them, keeping step with Thorin.

“But we can’t just abandon him,” Bofur argued. Thorin stopped and turned to him, a dark look in his eyes.

“Bilbo is dead,” his captain said. “What do you propose? Hunting through this Mahal-forsaken cavern until the Goblins kill us?”

“We need ta go back and find his body,” Bofur said. “I don’t want ta leave him here ta be eaten by Goblins.”

“We have no choice,” Thorin snapped. Balin’s hand fell on Thorin’s arm in a warning manner. Bofur swallowed hard before speaking, surprising even himself.

“Then I’m goin’ back,” he said. Thorin’s eyebrows raised eye up his forehead. “Ya can go back ta the ship, but I’m not leavin’ Bilbo here ta be eaten by Goblins.” And with that Bofur turned on his heel and marched away from the group. Thorin shouted after him but he ignored his captain. Bofur had just turned around a bend in the path when footsteps caught up with him.

“Go back, Bif,” Bofur said. “Thorin’s goin’ ta need at least one engineer.”

“You know he doesn’t listen to you,” Nori said. Bofur paused and turned to see Nori and Bifur standing behind him. Bifur cocked his head and spoke in Khuzdul. Bofur frowned at the words.

“Of course I meant what I said,” he said. “I’m not goin’ ta leave Bilbo ta be . . .”

“Defiled?” Nori offered, and Bofur nodded. “Well, you’ll need at least two more people to help you there.” Bifur nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“I can handle this just fine,” Bofur argued. “I don’t need ya two followin’ me around cause you think you can’t take care of yourself.” Bifur spoke again and shook his finger at his cousin, but Bofur ignored him.

“You can tell us to turn around all you want,” Nori said. “But we’re not going to leave. Bifur won’t abandon his favorite cousin and I’m not letting my friend die out here alone. What if the Goblins came and got you?” Bofur frowned, he hadn’t thought of that. “Ah, you see, this is why we’re friends: because I’m smarter than you are.”

“Shut up,” Bofur muttered. “Fine, ya two can come along if ya want, but I’m not waitin’ fer ya.” Turning on his heel, he marched away with his friends close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I hated writing Gollum's scene in the cave. I honestly don't know why. I had Castor read it before I posted it and she told it was fine, so I trusted her.


	22. Yips and Yelps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! I managed to post every chapter I have written so far! I am currently working on the next one, but . . . writer's block. :P

**Yips and Yelps**

“He threw you over the edge?” Agent Smith asked in disbelief. Ori nodded slowly, wondering if the agent had been dropped on his head as a child. “And you survived?”

“Um, yes?” Ori said, his suspicion growing.

“How far of a drop was that?” the Man asked Ori. “Thirty? Forty feet?”

“I think it was well around a few hundred,” Ori said, and Agent Smith choked. “How much do you actually know about the Misty Mountains?”

“I know my basic history,” Agent Smith admitted. “The battle of Azanulbizar, Khazad-dum, the Goblin Infestation.”

“Well, there’s always that one bit the Government doesn’t talk about,” Ori said. Agent Smith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I seem to be learning a bit too much about that this week,” Agent Smith said, and Ori smiled wryly.

“Well this’ll make it worse,” Ori told the Man. “The Government tried to use the Misty Mountains as a research facility.” Agent Smith looked up at him with curiosity. “Bofur’s a hidden genius. He may not act like it, but he can invent anything if he puts his mind to it.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Agent Smith said slowly. “I’m guessing Bofur has something to do with the Misty Mountains?”

“Somewhat,” Ori said, thinking before he continued. “It turned out the Government had planted a mole in the mines when they learned about Bofur. The mole talked to him and listened to all his ideas, taking them back to the Government.”

“Who tried to recreate them?” Agent Smith guessed, and Ori nodded. “I’m going to say they didn’t go over well.”

“Well, one of the projects worked pretty well,” Ori said in disagreement. “But those were just prototypes. The planet we had landed on was infested with rogue medical mites.” Agent Smith’s eyebrows rose high up his forehead. “The Government had tried to mass produce the medical mites and used the facility as an experiment.”

“What went wrong?”

“They never put a self-destruct mechanism in the medical mites like Bofur did. They continued to reproduce themselves and . . .”

“And what?”

“Do you have a knife?” Ori asked suddenly. The Man’s brow furrowed but he nodded slowly. “May I see it? I promise not to kill you.” Ori smiled wryly at that. He watched the inner argument in the Man’s expression before the agent passed over a knife. Ori accepted the pocket knife and flipped it open, slicing the blade down his wrist. A thin trail of blood ran down his skin and dripped into his lap.

“Hey!” Agent Smith shouted. Ori tossed the knife aside and waited patiently as the tingling sensation filled his wrist. Agent Smith’s eyes widened in shock when the blood slowly stopped flowing. A new layer of skin had sealed over the cut. The Agent fell back onto his stool, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“When the Goblins took us into their caves,” Ori explained. “We inhaled the medical mites just by being there. We didn’t know it at first, but now we’re all infested with them.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Agent Smith whispered.

“It is,” Ori said sadly. “Oin tried everything to destroy the mites but they just mass produced themselves. We can never get rid of them.”

“Is that how you survived the fall?” Agent Smith asked, and Ori nodded slowly. “And what about this other project? The prototype?” Ori smiled mischievously.

“That’s what I’m getting to next,” the Dwarf said. Leaning back against the wall, he clasped his hands together. “It took us a long time to find our way out of those tunnels . . .”

O.o.O

“Eighty-three barrels of ale on the wall,” Kili sang as he marched beside his older brother. “Eight-three barrels of ale. You take one down, you pass it around, you’ve got eighty-two barrels of ale on the wall.” Fili ground his teeth in aggravation. He had tried stuffing his fingers in his ears at ninety barrels to no avail. Kili had just continued to sing as slowly the mood of the company grew annoyed. Sometimes Fili wished his younger brother could read the atmosphere.

“You take one down, you pass it around, you’ve got eighty-.”

“Enough,” Thorin growled, and Kili stopped singing with a grin. Catching his older brother’s eye, he winked and mouthed ‘seventeen minutes’. It had all been one of Kili’s games to see how long it took him to annoy Thorin enough.

“This is hopeless,” Dwalin said. Dori glared at him from holding Ori close. The youngest Dwarf had fallen into a fit of tears not four minutes into their march, sobbing about how they were all going to die.

“Don’t say that,” Kili said, his grin growing. “Just because Thorin’s got us lost five times-.”

“Kili,” Balin said in a warning tone, and Kili’s grin dropped. His shoulders drooped as he stuffed his hands his pockets, scuffing the ground with a boot. Fili nudged his brother with an elbow.

“The laddie’s just trying to help,” Gloin said. “There’s no need to yell at him.”

“We do not have time for games,” Thorin said without turning around. “We have already wasted nearly forty minutes of the time that bastard gave us.”

“Forty-five,” Balin corrected, planting his hands on his hips as he walked. “And we are three Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a wizard short.”

“The missing wizard may be fixed very easily,” a deep voice said behind the group.  Shouts rang through the Dwarves as they whirled around, their weapons drawn. Gandalf looked down at them with humor in his eyes, his staff gripped in one hand and Glamdring in the other.

“Gandalf,” Thorin said with a tone of relief. Gandalf nodded a greeting to him. “How did you know we were down here?”

“I arrived at your ship just in time to see what happened,” Gandalf said, tapping his staff against the ground. “I was forced to dock my pod and take a fresh one in order to land down here.”

“In the labyrinth?” Ori asked in disbelief. Gandalf nodded seriously.

“I have been wandering these tunnels wondering how to rescue you for some time now,” the wizard said. He turned a curious eye on Thorin. “How did you manage to escape the Goblins?”

“Nori convinced them to throw us down here,” Dwalin growled out.

“He tricked them into releasing us,” Dori corrected us. “It just so happened that we ended up being thrown down here.”

“The Goblins released you?” Gandalf repeated in shock. “Just like that?”

“Hardly,” Dori said. Balin cut in before he could continue.

“Nori tricked them into thinking Bilbo was a child of the stars,” Thorin’s first-mate said. Gandalf listened intently as Balin spoke. “He said only we could find Bilbo, so they threw us down here. We have one hour to find Bilbo before the Goblins come looking.”

“Speaking of the Hobbit, where is?” Gandalf asked. The crew looked around at each other sheepishly. No one wanted to be the one to break the news to Gandalf. The wizard’s voice darkened with suspicion. “What happened?”

“Bilbo fell,” Kili said, his voice cracking. “When they got us off the ship Bilbo fell down here somewhere.” Gandalf’s eyes widened before his face softened.

“Bofur, Nori, and Bifur went looking for him?” Gandalf guessed. Kili nodded sadly and Gandalf cleared his throat. “Very well, I can lead you back to the pod, but I’m afraid that will only hold five Dwarves without a wizard.”

“If we can get to the ship then we can find a way to escape,” Thorin said. “Lead the way.” Gandalf nodded and turned on his heel, leading the Dwarves in the opposite direction. Kili hooked his arm through Fili’s as he fell in step beside his brother.

“See,” he whispered for only Fili to hear. “I told you everything would fine.”

“You didn’t even say anything,” Fili retorted. Kili just grinned at him and winked, earning himself a snort from his older brother.

The ten Dwarves and wizard continued on in silence for several more minutes as they trekked through the tunnels. Occasionally Thorin or Gandalf would say something to each other. Snippets of their conversation floated back to Fili, carrying words such as ‘guilt’, ‘Frerin’, or ‘given him a chance’. None of it made any sense to the pilot but he figured that’s the way it was with Gandalf. Some things he told to certain people and others he didn’t. It seemed like only half the people he ever talked to knew what they were doing when in all reality they didn’t have a clue. Fili would have been happy to continue walking in ignorance if Kili hadn’t looked up at that moment. His brother froze on the spot before shouting.

“Gandalf!”

The wizard spun on the spot and looked to Kili who pointed up. Eleven pairs of eyes followed Kili’s fingers up into the darkness of the cavern walls. Crawling figures descended down the walls with familiar clacking sounds. The Goblins were on their way down. Their hour was up.

O.o.O

Bilbo didn’t know how Gollum could have possibly ran past him in the tunnel. In the end, he decided it had something to do with the ring. Upon removing the small piece of jewelry, the strange sensation of tingling skin had left him. He was left with a normal feeling he found he had started missing. The ring was stuffed into his waistcoat’s pocket and he continued down the tunnel. Bilbo didn’t know how many minutes had passed before he found himself in a new cavern.

This cavern had once obviously belonged to someone, or something. The walls had been smoothed down until they rose in a high dome. Cracked computer screens hung from the walls. Some still remained on their original mounts while others hung by bare cords. A wide area of the floor had been carved out in a perfect circle, a railing surrounding it. Desks littered the area around the railing, papers having been abandoned there in someone’s hurry to leave.

Bilbo approached the railing carefully. A thick layer of dust covered the cool metal, blowing up into the air when Bilbo placed his hands on the railing. Clearly the Goblins had not reached this area yet. Any damage done to the computers and desks had been done by old age. Whoever had left hadn’t returned for several years, maybe even a hundred.

Crouching down, Bilbo stuck his head through the wide slots in the railing. Several yards below him was what looked like glass covered in more dust and dirt. Two cracks ran in an ‘X’ formation through the circle which in itself was hundreds of feet across.

“Wow,” Bilbo breathed to himself. He pulled back from the railing and stood, looking about himself. A bat or two fluttered out from the ceiling but otherwise he was alone. Curiosity piqued further, he chose to investigate.

The papers revealed nothing to Bilbo. They were written in a language he didn’t recognize. There were pictures, though, that he could understand. One page in a stack revealed a small spider-like creature. Lines pointed at certain parts of the spider and words had been written. Notes, Bilbo guessed. Another page revealed to him the skeleton of an eagle. Anymore pages of this project had either been destroyed or taken to Bilbo’s dismay. He searched the entire desk twice but couldn’t find anything that matched the eagle’s project. Only word stood out to him: _Gwahir_. He didn’t know what it meant, but obviously it was a name.

Leaving the desk, Bilbo wandered further around the room. Dust floated up as he walked through the cavern, leaving a trail of footsteps behind him. His feet carried him in a near full circle without any further observations. Until he found the small podium facing the railing. A single red button sat in the center, its glass cover having been lifted long ago. More dust covered the button, dulling its once brilliant color.

“A button,” Bilbo said to himself. “A big red button.” In his experience of reading, big red buttons were never a good sign. They normally led to a certain death or sometimes trap doors that opened beneath the victim. Bilbo would never in a million years forgive his Tookish side.

He pressed the big red button.

Almost immediately computer screens flickered to life. Bilbo jumped back in surprise as white numbers began to run across blue screens. The glass doors in the hole below opened with an ungodly screech, drawing back in triangles. White lights flickered on in sequence down the deep tunnel Bilbo didn’t have the courage to look back down in. A strange screeching sound echoed up from the tunnel below followed by a hum.

“Blast it!” Bilbo swore, stumbling back from the tunnel. “Blast it all to Eru!” The echoes of a familiar whistling sound reached his ears and he spun around. “Bifur?” he called out hopefully. Behind him, he heard the humming sound growing into a roaring. The entire cavern shook with the new force, rocks tumbling down in large pieces. Bilbo yelped as he dodged a particularly large chuck of granite that had almost landed on him.

Darting for the door, Bilbo raced from the cavern as fast as his feet could carry him. The sounds of the cavern caving in followed him through the tunnels. He followed the whistling, coughing and trying to rub dust out of his eyes, until he ran into a solid chest and fell back to the ground.

“Bilbo!” Bofur crowed. “Yer alive!”

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo coughed, trying to clear his lungs. He yelped in surprise when he found himself pulled to his feet by Bofur. Bifur patted him on the head with a friendly word in Khuzdul. Nori looked his friend up and down.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Cave-in,” Bilbo said. Bofur began to pat the dirt and dust out of his jacket, almost knocking the Hobbit over with the force of it. “I found a cavern and . . .” His ears burned red.

“And what?” Nori asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Bilbo said quicker than he would have liked. “But we need to get out of here now.” He moved to march forward but Bofur grabbed him by the arm.

“Hold yer horses,” Bofur said. “How did ya manage to survive the fall?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Bilbo said honestly. “I remember falling and then I woke up down here. But we really need to be going.”

“What’s got ya in such a rush?” Bofur asked. Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, the faint roaring down the tunnel growing steadily, when Bifur shouted.

“ _Urkh_ _ûs!_ ” Bofur’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. Nori swung his mace around up following Bofur’s gaze.

“Goblins!” Nori shouted. Bilbo looked up to see the hideous creatures scaling down the cavern walls. “Stay with us, Bilbo!” Scrabbling at his sword, Bilbo drew the glowing weapon from its sheath. Bifur hefted his boar spear and grabbed Bilbo’s arm as they raced down the tunnel.

“We need ta find the rest of the crew,” Bofur shouted over the sounds of the screeching Goblins. Nori led them back down the tunnel at a faster pace than Bilbo would have liked. No matter where they ran, though, the Goblins continued to descend in more numbers than Bilbo could have counted. Surely there couldn’t be this amount of creatures living in one space?

Nori skidded to a halt at a fork in the path, his head whipping back and forth. Bilbo spun around to place his back to Bifur’s. His eyes scanned the darkness above and around them. The Goblins were closing in fast, too fast. The small group would be overtaken in no time. Bilbo’s ears twitched at the growing sound of roaring but he ignored it.

“By Mahal,” Bofur swore, swinging his mattock at the first Goblin that reached them. The Goblin screeched and fell down from the wall to be replaced by another. Bilbo swung his short sword at another Goblin, catching it in the stomach. Beside him Bifur shouted in fluent Khuzdul and jabbed out with his boar spear. Solid _thunks_ behind him told Bilbo that Nori was putting his mace to good use.

“Blast it.”

O.o.O

Thorin swung out at every Goblin who drew too close for comfort. This turned out to be a great number of Goblins, each one replaced by another who shrieked and struck out. Kili had long since ran out of arrows and had been forced to resort to his sword.

“Ori!” Dori shouted as he swung his sword. Oin had grabbed a good grip on his staff to spin it around his head in a methodical manner. Every Goblin with in a four foot radius found themselves knocked unconscious by the weapon.

“Gandalf!” Thorin roared over the chaos. He could just barely see the wizard swinging Glamdring round and round, his staff striking out when the sword didn’t.

“Thorin!” Gandalf shouted back. “We need to make for the ship!”

“There’s too many of them!” Dwalin’s words were almost lost to Thorin in the roar of Goblins. He swung out with Grasper and Keeper, having given up his war hammer to the poorly armed Ori. “We’ll never make it out!” A Goblin grabbed Fili by the hair and he swung out hard behind him, relishing the screeching sound.

O.o.O

A hand snapped out and grabbed Bilbo by the hair, wrenching his head back. Bilbo’s cry of pain was lost in the screeching around him. He felt more hands grab at him and heard the Dwarves’ shouting his name. Bofur swung out with his mattock but there were too many enemies. With the amount of Goblins joining the ranks by the second, they would be dead very soon. A sword sliced deep at Bilbo’s back and he screamed, his voice drowned out by a screeching sound.

Something white shot over head and the Goblins’ screamed in surprise. Bilbo found himself dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The screeching – an eagle, he thought dully – filled the air again followed by a strange _fwump_ sound. Fires sparked up around him, the Goblins crying out as they tried to escape. Rolling over, Bilbo frowned. Never before had he seen this strange cross between an eagle and a manta ray. The silver tip of the nose curved down like an eagle’s beak but the curved wings were covered in a layer of metal that resembled a ray’s wings. Globs of flaming liquid shot out from weapons in the creature’s smooth belly.

The creature – a ship, Bilbo realized – fired again, sending liquid fire at the Goblins surrounding Bilbo. The creatures screamed in terror and agony, scrabbling back up the walls. Using his sword as a support, Bilbo managed to push himself to his feet. His back screamed in agony at the movement. From this angle he could see the front of the ship better. Three windows made up the windshield, a single one in the center and two on the sides that resembled eyes. A fourth window covered the expanse below what must have been the cockpit.

Several more ships shot over the squabbling group of Goblins, Dwarves, and Hobbit. Three swooped down to fire into the crowd of Goblins, clearing a space. Bilbo watched in bemused wonder until he began to realize something. The ship above him had withdrawn its weapon. The metal and glass belly had folded back in shifting panels to reveal the empty expanse of its stomach. It was descending . . . right at him.

“W-Wait,” Bilbo said, though he doubted the ship could hear him. The ship dove down in a quick move, its flexible wings tucked against its sides. Its metal belly barely scraped the ground even as it managed to scoop Bilbo up. The metal panels clicked back into place and Bilbo found himself sitting on a new floor.

The inside of the ship was made of the same metal the outside had been. Directly behind him a thin engine spun in its cradle. Before him Bilbo could see out the windshield. The ship had resumed firing at the Goblins upon achieving its goal. Standing on shaking legs, Bilbo moved forward. A padded bench sat in the very center of the cockpit, the front quarter of it a raised platform. Set before the bench were two curved panels decorated with blinking monitors.

Bilbo ran his fingers over the pad, pushing against the supple material. It felt like his hand was sinking into a cloud. A screen to Bilbo’s right flashed blue and a trill filled the air before stopping. Bilbo spared it a glance before a daring feeling filled his stomach. Hopping onto the bench, Bilbo positioned his feet against the tilted footrests on the floor. His elbows were perched on padded arm rests and he gripped the sideways handles in sweaty hands. A metal skeleton sank down and locked in place with a series of _clicks_ , holding Bilbo in place.

“Never flown a ship before,” Bilbo muttered to himself. The screen trilled almost in a laugh in and he scowled at it. “Shut up.” The screen flashed red at him before returning to blue.

Bilbo turned his attention back out to the fight below. Through the window beneath him he could see another ship scooping up a racing Bifur. Bofur had an expression of utmost joy on his face as he waved at the ships. Nori looked absolutely shocked, his mace hanging by his side. The ship barely shuddered beneath Bilbo as it fired a series of liquid fire at the swarming Goblins. Both Bofur and Nori were scooped up by the last two ships. Together, the four ships turned and sped down the tunnel.

The walls sped past Bilbo as the ship flew along. He watched in growing wonder while the ship fired blast after blast at the Goblins it passed. He caught a glimpse of Bofur laughing in the ship below him, the engineer’s fingers flying over buttons and flipping switches. Finally, his voice carried over an intercom.

“Bilbo!” he shouted enthusiastically, and Bilbo jumped in surprise. “What do ya think of the beauties?”

“They’re yours?” Bilbo asked in disbelief.

“They were my idea,” Bofur said. He waved up at Bilbo when the Hobbit looked down at him. Bilbo waved back. “The Government must have decided ta try and build them.”

“What are they?” Bilbo asked nervously.

“I called them Eagles,” Bofur said with a grin. “Fits, don’t it? They’re biological ships that feed off solar and lunar energy ta run. These babies recycle the created fuel as plasma fer the weapons.”

“Wow,” Bilbo breathed. His ship swung around a bend and he found himself facing another mass of scrambling Goblins. The ships he had seen pass him earlier were busy scooping up Dwarves from below. Bilbo caught a glimpse of Gandalf already in one of the ships and he breathed a sigh of relief. The sigh turned into a shout of terror when a Goblin threw itself at his ship, landing on the windshield. The ship somersaulted suddenly and the Goblin was launched back off.

“Hold on ta yer breakfast, Bilbo!” Bofur shouted gleefully over the intercom. Bilbo clutched the handles in a death grip, his eyes wide. Never before had he felt such a sensation of flipping over like that. And he hoped he never would again. The screen to his left blinked gray with a _whoop whoop_. Bilbo could only smile nervously and pat the handle.

“Bofur,” Bilbo said, a thought coming to him. “When you said biological ships . . .”

“Oh, aye,” Bofur said. “They’re built with an artificial intelligence in them. They’ll run on autopilot until ya take over the controls. They’re made ta fly with only one pilot in their life, genetic locking.”

“Brilliant,” Bilbo muttered to himself. He watched as Dwalin, the last Dwarf, was scooped up into an _Eagle_. Bofur jerked up on his controls and his ship slipped past Bilbo. The nose of Bilbo’s ship tilted upward as it followed Bofur.

One by one the _Eagles_ joined together in a flock. They flew up through the tunnels and out into the open night air. Bilbo gasped in relief, running a hand down his face as he listened to Bofur’s whoops. Other voices joined him through the intercom and suddenly everyone was shouting.

“We’re alive!”

“Ori, are you alright?”

“That was so awesome! Did you see me, Kili?”

“I think I’m goin’ to be sick.”

“What is everyone shouting about?”

Laughter erupted at Oin’s comment and Bilbo relaxed against the bench. They were alive. They had survived the Goblins.

O.o.O

“Those prototypes,” Ori told Agent Smith softly. “Were designs for single-manned battleships. Only fifteen were ever built, every single one of them abandoned in the Misty Mountains when the medical mite epidemic hit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can! What do you think of the Big Damn Adventure so far?


	23. Keeling and Keening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I finally got another chapter written! I think it's been . . . five days since my last chapter. I feel sorry for my readers on fanfiction. Normally I manage to write one chapter a day. But then I get writer's block. :P Oh well, I'm back for my Big Damn Adventure!

**Keeling and Keening**

From birth Bombur had been overweight. To the men it was unhealthy, leading to heart disease and diabetes later in life. But to the Dwarves it was a good sign. It signified a strong body and a healthy appetite for whatever they aspired to do, whether it be smithing or mining or accounting. Years of watching his mother cook led Bombur to fall in love with cooking. It hadn’t taken long for their mother to find him a teacher. Nearly every chef on the Blue Mountains was willing to take Bombur on due to his sheer size. He would be a good worker they said, willing to do anything to learn. And learn he did. Through the years Bombur learned to make everything from a simple stew to a soufflé complete with éclairs on the side. He could still remember the day his teacher had given his ladle and said he could teach Bombur no more.

The Dwarf dames of the Blue Mountains fawned over Bombur. Often times he would get visitors in the kitchens where he worked, asking to sample his food or, if they were daring, to sample their own recipes. Only one dame caught his eye, though: the assistant pastry chef. She was a thin dame but made up for it with her sharp tongue and witty attitude. Bombur had fallen in love with her from the moment they had met. No matter how many times he hinted, though, she never showed any interest in him. Until he had learned she was a traditional Dwarf. With Bofur and Bifur’s help he jumped into courting to shower the dame with gifts and sweet words. He had never expected the dame to speed along the courting until finally they were getting married. Apparently she had been waiting for months for him to make his move, only obeying her parents’ request of a proper courting. The wedding had been simple with food entirely made by Bombur and ending with a spectacular bang from a rather drunk Bofur.

Bombur had tried to help with Bifur. When his cousin had returned from the hospital he had made meals Bifur had once loved. But Bifur would not touch a single morsel of it. He turned away from meat to green foods. Bofur had tried to coax their cousin into eating a bit of venison one night and it had ended with Bifur leaping at a shouting Bofur. And then Dwalin had come. Bifur had leapt at the guard, fists flying. The move had landed him in jail for the next three days while Bombur and Bofur pleaded his case. Only after Oin agreed Bifur would go through therapy had the insane Dwarf been released. Dragging Bifur to therapy five times a week had proven nearly impossible unless they tricked him into it. Bombur had watched with horror as his once laughing cousin had dissolved into a mad Dwarf with no control or ability to stop. Bifur was insane.

Life had gone fairly well on the Blue Mountains. Bombur and his wife had been graced with three daughters and a son. Then one day Bofur had come home to announce he had quit his job in the mines. Bombur had been horrified. That job had brought in half the expenses it took to live in a house on the Blue Mountains. Bofur had then broken the news, he and Bifur would be joining the crew of Thorin Oakenshield aboard _the Arkenstone_ as engineers. Bombur had been rather upset about that until Thorin had asked him to join. His wife, seeing his eagerness, had urged him to go. Her only request was that he stop by the Blue Mountains once a year and message her and the children through the vein at least twice a week. Bombur had agreed, he could do that. And so he joined _the Arkenstone_ . . .

“As the chef?” Agent Smith said. The words jerked Bombur out of his wistful memories and he blinked in surprise. Agent Smith looked at him expectantly.

“Sorry?” Bombur said, and the agent sighed.

“I said, you were the chef?” Agent Smith repeated. Bombur nodded at that, lacing his fingers together. “It’s rather odd Thorin decided to hire a chef when any other crew member would have done just as well, don’t you think?” Bombur cocked his head, thinking through the question.

The guards didn’t trust Bombur with handcuffs. Bombur suspected partially because he was too fat for them but he knew better than to accuse. The Government was too worried about his mass. He could have easily broken the handcuffs and attacked the Man before him. Therefore the Government had locked him in a room split in half by a glass wall. Bombur’s side of the room would fill with a knock-out gas the moment he showed signs of threatening behavior. Bombur couldn’t blame them. A rotund Dwarf could be a dangerous Dwarf.

“Not really,” Bombur finally said, his voice carrying through the speaker in the glass wall. “Dwarves like good food.”

“Is that why you decided to go into cooking?”

“Yes and no,” Bombur said. “My mother taught me everything she knew when I was younger. She loved cooking more than anything else in the world. I wanted to make her proud.”

“And what is the ‘no’ part?” Agent Smith asked. Bombur gave him a meaningful look and gestured to his immense size. “I . . . suppose I see what you mean.”

“I’m not fit to work in the mines or the forge,” Bombur said. “Cooking was the only other option I had.”

“I see,” Agent Smith said. He flipped through a manila folder before looking back up. “It says here you studied for thirteen years before joining a kitchen.”

“Aye, that is correct.”

“And that you were the Master Chef when you left?”

“Aye,” Bombur said. “Have you started to notice a pattern among the crew?”

“I have,” Agent Smith said, a small smile forming on his lips. “It seems you all had a promising life ahead of you and left. Why is that?”

“Because that life was good,” Bombur explained. “But Thorin could do better. He could give us something we all wanted without knowing.”

“And what was that?”

“Adventure. In the past five years I’ve gone to more places on that ship than I would have remaining a chef on the Blue Mountains.”

“Do you ever regret your decision?”

“No, not once.”

“Even with your children left behind on the Blue Mountains?”

“I miss them,” Bombur admitted, scratching his chin. “But they are excited whenever they see me. I bring them presents whenever we visit. Are those all your questions?” Agent Smith scanned a document before sighing and nodding. “Alright, where did Ori leave off?”

“You had just been rescued by _the Eagles._ ”

“Alright,” Bombur said with a nod. “We never expected those ships to be such a help to us after they’d rescued us, but they were . . .”

O.o.O

“What is everyone shouting about?”

Thorin would have laughed with the rest of the crew if it hadn’t been for that _damn_ ship. _The Eagle_ that had scooped him up refused to relinquish its control of flight. Every button Thorin pressed, every switch flipped, every knob twist; each was countered by the ship’s artificial intelligence and rerouted back to autopilot. Nearly every screen within Thorin’s field of vision glowed a vibrant orange – one Thorin didn’t like the looks of – accompanied by a warbling scream.

“Shut up, shut up, shut _up_ ,” Thorin growled, slamming his hand against a console. Black squiggles ran across an orange screen to his left and the ship seemed to holler at him, the bench trembling beneath him. Gritting his teeth, Thorin attempted to turn the autopilot off again. The switch flipped back on and the ship chortled. Thorin glared at the screen to his right as though it had done him a personal insult. And, in his books, it had.

“If you do not allow me to fly at once,” Thorin threatened. “You will regret it.” The ship gave a warbled shriek at him and the screens flashed with crisscrossing black lines. “Shut up!” Thorin roared, hitting the console again. The ship shrieked at him once more. Thorin grumbled to himself as he returned his grip to the handles in front of. His grumbles turned to shouts when silver cuffs looped out of the railing and locked out of his wrists. He wrenched at the cuffs but his wrists were trapped.

“Release me!” Thorin shouted at the ship. _The Eagle_ just chortled at him and seemed to relax now that Thorin had been properly restrained. “Bofur!”

“What are ya shoutin’ about over there, Thorin?” Bofur asked, a hint of humor in his voice. Thorin glared at the intercom darkly.

“This ship of yours has handcuffed me to the controls,” Thorin said. His engineer fell silent for a moment while he did whatever it took to examine Thorin’s ship. Bofur’s voice returned moments later. He spoke through clearly suppressed laughter.

“She doesn’t want ya flyin’,” the engineer said. Nori howled with laughter at that and Thorin thought he heard Kili make a snide comment to Fili. “She can tell ya don’t know the first thin’ about flyin’.”

“I am a fine flyer,” Thorin argued.

“Then why do you have two pilots?” Kili asked.

“Do you value your life?”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say yes is the right answer.”

“Good lad,” Thorin said with a smile. The smile dropped when no amount of tugging freed his wrists from their restraints. The ship’s orange screens had slowly faded first to a red then to a soft purple and finally to a blue. Thorin could only guess the color meant the ship was happy.

Thorin turned his attention to the scene outside the windshield. From what he could remember it had taken a few hours for the Goblins’ ship to reach the moon. _The Eagles_ moved at a faster pace than the Goblins’ ship had. They still had a ways to go before they left the moon’s atmosphere, though. _The Eagles_ seemed to know which direction they needed to head, each following Bofur’s lead. Gandalf’s _Eagle_ – _Gwahir_ , if the name emblazoned on the side meant anything – eased past Thorin’s on its way to the front. Thorin followed it with his eyes before frowning.

“ _Eagle_ ,” he said clearly. A blue screen above him and to the right pinged brightly, turning a bright blue. “How many ships are here?” The blue screen fizzled slightly. One by one, fifteen red blinking dots appeared on the screen. “How many of the ships carry heat signatures?” The screen fizzled again, this time turning a slight greenish color, before each red dot was circled by a black ring. “But how is that possible?” Thorin breathed.

“Bofur,” Thorin said, turning back to the intercom. “Did you find Bilbo?”

“Oh aye, didn’t we tell ya?” Bofur said. “He ran inta us before we were attacked by the Goblins.”

“Bilbo’s alive?” Ori’s excited voice carried through the intercom.

“Aye,” Bofur repeated. “He was the first _the Eagles_ picked up.”

“Thank Mahal,” Balin said. Thorin rested his forehead against the bench before him, sighing in relief through his nose. The Halfling was alive. He hadn’t died a painful death at the hands of the Goblins.

A warbling shriek from the ship snapped Thorin’s attention back. The ship’s screens had turned white with red streaks racing across them. Thorin had a single moment to wonder what was going on before the ship lurched beneath him. It spun sideways one hundred and eighty degrees then came to a complete stop. Thorin clutched at the controls throughout the entire process as he found himself tossed hard against the harness holding him down. The ship had begun to fly backward – to Thorin’s bemusement – and he soon saw why: five Goblin ships had pursued them from the moon.

“Dwalin! Gloin!” Thorin roared. “With me. The rest of you, get back to the ship.”

“What is it, Thorin?” Dwalin demanded.

“Goblins,” Thorin growled out. Flexing his fingers, he leaned forward against the bench. “Let me see what you can do, _Ùhùrud_.” The ship hummed in approval, the screen turning a violent shade of blue. Dwalin’s and Gloin’s ship flanked Thorin’s and the three _Eagles_ shot toward the advancing Goblins. Thorin’s thumb hovered over a red button, and he prayed it did what he thought it would. A screen to Thorin’s left faded black and then back to blue, graced by a set of crosshairs.

“Ready when you are,” Thorin muttered. The crosshairs flitted over three of the Goblin ships before it settled on the one in the middle. The two ships neared one another with every second. Thorin swallowed hard, his thumb a centimeter away from the red button. Either _the Eagle’s_ purring engine had grown louder or he could hear the blood pumping through his ears. A blaring squawk erupted throughout the ship and the crosshairs flashed red. Thorin smashed down the red button.

 _Fwump_. Liquid fire shot from a weapon in the belly of the ship. Barley a shudder ran through the ship with the move. Thorin watched as the liquid fire flew through the air and struck the Goblin ship. The metal sheeting of the ship bubbled under the extreme heat, falling off in melting chunks. Thorin jammed the button down a few more times. Each press brought forth a new round of liquid fire. _Ùhùrud_ soared over the burning ship and rounded on the next. Thorin could spot another ship plummeting to the moon’s surface under the combined efforts of Dwalin and Gloin. The Goblin ship _Ùhùrud_ had chosen fired a round of ammo at Thorin’s ship. _Ùhùrud_ swerved sideways and easily dodged the attack along with the next and the next.

“The belly,” Thorin said. A screen to his right gave a questioning _whoop whoop_. “How is the sheeting in the belly of the ship?” The ship fell silent for a moment as it dodged another round of ammo before the screen trilled excitedly. _Hold on_ , it seemed to say. And hold on Thorin did.

 _Ùhùrud_ flipped backward through the air and dove downward. Thorin clutched at the controls, thankful for a moment he had been cuffed to them. He wasn’t sure he could have held on otherwise. _Ùhùrud_ flew in a complete loop before it righted itself and shot up at the Goblin ship’s belly. Thorin pummeled the button under his thumb. Glob after glob of liquid fire shot at the thin sheeting, connecting with their targets. _Ùhùrud_ dodged sideways as a particularly large chunk of metal fell past them. Thorin gritted his teeth against the sharp movements, firing more fire at the ship.

“Get us out of here!” Thorin roared. _Ùhùrud_ gave a series of agreeing beeps before it dove sideways. They had just barely escaped from directly beneath the ship when what could have only been the engine fell through the melting metal. The ship followed soon after in a downward spiral toward the earth. _Ùhùrud_ slowed to a stop and spun around to examine the battlefield. Dwalin had just finished raining fire down on the last Goblin ship, sending the vessel to its death below. Thorin huffed in satisfaction, running his thumb against the controls.

“Good job,” he said softly. _Ùhùrud_ hummed in approval. “Now release me.” The screens flickered a violent shade of purple and the ship trilled. Thorin frowned at it.

“That’s all of them,” Dwalin’s voice carried through the intercom. “It doesn’t look like anymore are comin’.”

“Make for the ship,” Thorin ordered. _Ùhùrud_ turned away from the fallen Goblin ships. The engine’s purring increased in volume and the ship shot away from the moon. Thorin relaxed against the bench, exhaustion rolling over him in waves.

The trip out of the moon’s atmosphere took a shorter amount of time than Thorin had thought it would. The ship had begun to almost whistle to itself, as though it was singing a song to stave off the boredom. Thorin sat back and listened to the song. Slowly the clouds of the moon dissipated. _Ùhùrud_ left the weather of the atmosphere behind in exchange for the black sky and twinkling stars. Dwalin’s _Eagle_ appeared beside _Ùhùrud_ , the Dwarf resting his arms on the bench. He nodded a greeting to Thorin who returned it.

“How far do you think they got?” Dwalin asked.

“I do not know,” Thorin said. He turned his attention back to _Ùhùrud_. “How far away is _the Arkenstone_?” The ship paused in its whistling to trill thoughtfully. The screen to Thorin’s right flickered to a green monitor. Two red dots appeared on it, lines running between the two dots accompanied by Dwarvish runes.

“They are several miles away,” Thorin told his friend. “It may take us a few hours to reach them.”

“If we don’t run into anymore Goblins,” Dwalin grumbled. Thorin had to agree with him. The Misty Mountains were crawling with Goblins and Orcs, infested one could say. _Ùhùrud_ gave a questioning coo and Thorin smiled, rubbing his thumb against the controls.

“We’ll be alright,” he said.

Several hours passed during the flight back to _the Arkenstone_. Thorin spent the time trying to get _Ùhùrud_ to release his wrists: he begged, threatened, coerced, and even went so far as to promise it a pile of gold. Nothing he said would make the ship release him. It simply trilled and chortled through all his words, squealing unhappily when he threatened to have it disassembled. The small electric shock sent through the bench made Thorin wonder if he had gone a step too far with that one.

 _The Arkenstone_ loomed ahead, her back end glowing a brilliant red with the running engine. The cargo bay’s ramp slid open partially as _the Eagles_ drew near. _Ùhùrud_ shot through the widening crack and came to a hovering stop in the environmental chamber. Gloin and Dwalin’s ships quickly followed and the ramp whirred shut with a resounding slam. A hissing sound filled the chamber as the environment stabilized to match that of _the Arkenstone’s_ interior. _Ùhùrud_ shot through the doors once they had opened. The other _Eagles_ had been parked beneath the gangways lining the walls. _Ùhùrud_ looped around the cargo bay once then settled down between two other ships.

The cuffs looped around Thorin’s wrists retracted. The harness unlocked and drew back. Pushing himself upright, Thorin watched as the glass and metal panels folded back into a wide opening. Thorin stood and vaulted himself over the edge of the ship. The panels folded back shut the moment his feet hit the floor. _Ùhùrud_ drew its wings to its sides. The head of the ship moved upward and backward to rest on its back. It reminded Thorin of a resting bird.

“Bofur’s outdone himself this time,” Dwalin said as he approached his captain. He clapped Thorin on the shoulder in greeting. “We were lucky today.”

“This was not luck,” Thorin said. Turning away from the ship, he made his way toward the stairs to the gangway. “There is no luck out here for us.” No response came from Dwalin as Thorin marched up the stairs. Nori leaned against the doorway with crossed arms, watching his captain approach.

“Nori,” Thorin greeted. His thief nodded in greeting but didn’t move. Thorin sighed and gave him a pointed look. Nori still didn’t move. Instead, his eyes flicked up to the rafters. Turning, Thorin could just barely make out Bilbo’s small form. “How is he?”

“Injured,” Nori said. Thorin’s head snapped back to him. Nori shrugged and straightened up. “He bolted for his hideout the minute his ship opened.”

“He cannot be too badly injured if he can climb up there,” Thorin said. He made to ascend the stairs but a hand from Nori stopped him.

“Oin wants to give him an examination,” Nori told Thorin. “I saw a Goblin slice him in the back during the battle.” Thorin turned to look back at the Hobbit. Indeed, he could see a spot of red on Bilbo’s lower back.

“Call him down,” Thorin said.

“We tried that,” Nori told him. “But he took the translators out.” Thorin watched the Hobbit shift on his platform, thinking. Finally, he beckoned for Dwalin. His friend stormed up the stairs toward them, giving Nori a suspicious look.

“What is it?” Dwalin asked. “Did Nori do somethin’ to the engine again?”

“No,” Nori said with a hurt expression. “When did I ever do that?”

“Your third day on the ship.”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“I think Bofur would disagree.”

“Enough, you two,” Thorin said in a hushed voice. Dwalin and Nori snapped their mouths shut, turning their attention back to the captain. “Dwalin, go find Kili, Ori, and Bofur. Bring them back here.”

“Aye,” Dwalin said hesitantly, though he didn’t question Thorin. He disappeared up the stairs and left Thorin with only Nori for company. A silence fell between the two Dwarves, broken when Gloin clumped up the stairs and slipped past them.

“What do you need those three for?” Nori finally asked. Thorin ignored him but grabbed the thief by the arm when Nori turned to leave. Nori gave him a confused look.

“I need you here too,” Thorin said in an explanation. Nori leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

“What are you up to, Thorin?” Thorin didn’t answer as he relaxed against the railing of the gangway. Several minutes passed before Dwalin returned with Kili, Ori, and Bofur in tow. Bofur gave his friend a questioning look but Nori just shrugged.

“What’s going on?” Kili asked. Thorin raised a finger to his lips. His nephew’s mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Bilbo is injured,” Thorin said in a hushed voice. The Dwarves leaned in to hear him better. “We need to get him to Oin.”

“How do we do that?” Bofur asked. “Bilbo’s stubborn when he wants ta be.” Thorin hesitated before answering.

“Flush him,” he said. Ori’s eyes widened and Bofur shook his head.

“No,” Bofur argued. “That’s Bilbo’s private area. We don’t go up there unless he invites us. What if he falls?”

“There is a net to catch him,” Thorin said. Dwalin crossed his arms and turned his eyes up to Bilbo.

“We’d be invadin’ his privacy,” Bofur said.

“Bilbo is injured,” Thorin said. “If we leave him be infection could set in. I think we all know what an infection could do to a person.” Ori swallowed hard, turning his eyes to Bilbo.

“What do we do?” the youngest Dwarf asked.

“I want you four to climb up into the rafters,” Thorin said. “Chase him out of his area and try to get him to fall into the net below.”

“Spider in the net,” Dwalin said softly. Thorin nodded. Bofur looked ready to argue but Nori elbowed him hard in the side. The engineer grunted, rubbing the injured area.

“Fine,” Bofur said. He pointed an accusing finger at Thorin. “But ya have ta promise a Bilbo Pampering Day.” Thorin nodded in agreement, ignoring Nori’s snickers.

“Into the rafters,” Thorin ordered.

Kili, Nori, Ori, and Bofur spread out along the two sides of the cargo bay. A nod from Thorin sent them all climbing up lines of hooks. Nori arrived in the rafters first, hauling himself up onto a beam. He steadied himself before trotting along the metal beam to Bilbo’s platform. Thorin watched as the thief crouched down and spoke to Bilbo in a low voice, leaping back when Bilbo struck out at him.

“Bilbo!” Nori’s voice carried down from the rafters.

Thorin nodded to Dwalin and they split up. Thorin stalked along the gangway, his eyes following the Dwarves in the rafters. Kili and Bofur had finally reached Bilbo’s platform. It wasn’t until Ori had arrived there that Bilbo reacted. The Hobbit gave an almost comical squeal and leapt up from his platform, darting away from the four Dwarves.

“Darn it!” Nori shouted. “I almost had him.”

“He was tryin’ ta hit ya,” Bofur argued. Kili darted pats him after Bilbo who had begun to make his way to another platform.

“Just get him,” Noir snapped at Bofur before racing after Bilbo. Bofur made a face at his friend’s back and follow him. Ori trotted unsurely after them.

Thorin watched as the four Dwarves herded Bilbo into the center of the rafters. At a nod from his captain, Nori launched himself sideways and into Bilbo. The Dwarf and Hobbit were sent tumbling into the net below with a yelp from Bilbo. The moment they landed, Dwalin crawled onto the net. The sturdy woven ropes jumped under his moves. Bilbo struggled to his feet but Nori pulled him back down with a hand from his belt. Dwalin finally reached the wrestling friends, wrapping his arms around Bilbo.

“Got him,” Dwalin shouted.

“Bring him here,” Thorin ordered. Dwalin kept one strong arm wrapped around Bilbo’s waist and used the other to support himself across the net. No matter how much Bilbo squealed and struggled the warrior didn’t let go. Once he reached the edge of the net, Dwalin deposited Bilbo into Thorin’s arms. Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist, holding the Hobbit like a child. Bilbo struck him on the back, yelling in Hobbitish, but Thorin ignored him.

“Let’s get him to Oin,” Thorin said. Dwalin launched himself off the net, landing with a heavy thump. At the word ‘Oin’ Bilbo did the one thing Thorin had hoped he never would. He screamed. It wasn’t just an upset scream or a terrified yelp. It was a high-pitched wailing siren that meant no to the highest degree. It meant ‘let me go’ and ‘I beg of you’. Thorin hadn’t heard the sound since Bilbo had first awoke on the ship. Up in the rafters Bofur’s face twisted into an upset expression and he turned away.

“It will be alright,” Thorin murmured in Bilbo’s pointed ear. The Hobbit continued his animalistic scream, beating at Thorin’s back as the Dwarf made his way toward the stairs. Dwalin followed him up the stairs and through the second level, into the medical bay. Oin looked up at their arrival. His eyes widened when he saw the squirming Hobbit.

“What happened?” Oin asked loudly. Dwalin slid the medical bay door shut and locked it behind himself. Thorin deposited Bilbo on the examination table and placed a hand on the Hobbit’s shoulder to keep him there. Bilbo took a deep breath, screaming high and loud. Oin looked between the three arrivals in confusion.

“Bilbo was injured in the Goblins’ cave,” Dwalin said. Oin sighed and nodded.

“I thought as much,” the medic said. “The poor laddie looked sore when he climbed out of his ship.”

“Nori said he was sliced by a Goblin,” Thorin said. He flinched when Bilbo struck him in the face. Dwalin marched up behind the Hobbit and wrapped a paw around Bilbo’s wrists, holding them behind his back. Bilbo screamed again, this time wailing helplessly.

“I’ll need his clothes off,” Oin said. “Just the top, mind you. I’m sure Bilbo wouldn’t appreciate being embarrassed.” Thorin and Dwalin looked to each other before Thorin sighed, nodding reluctantly.

Removing Bilbo’s clothes proved to be harder feat than was necessary. The Hobbit squirmed and squealed throughout the process. He would wrench his arm from a Dwarf’s grip or kick them hard in the leg. A moment passed during which Dwalin had managed to jerk Bilbo’s overcoat off his shoulder. The Hobbit had slid from the coat easily and thrown himself off the table, fleeing for the door. Strong hands on his shoulders from Thorin had pulled him backward the Hobbit had resumed his screaming. Finally, Thorin and Dwalin managed to remove the Hobbit’s waistcoat – the buttons missing, Thorin noted – and peeled his shirt off. The shirt was beyond saving, stained with dried blood and grime. Thorin paused when Bilbo’s overcoat hit the ground with a solid _thunk_.

“Just relax, laddie,” Oin said soothingly. Bilbo punched him in the nose. The medic blinked in surprise then nodded to Dwalin and Thorin.

“Dammit,” Dwalin muttered under his breath. “I was hopin’ we wouldn’t have to do this again.”

“He might hate us for it,” Oin agreed. “But it needs to be done.”

Thorin and Dwalin both grabbed an elbow and knee. Bilbo realized what was happening too late and screamed again. Together, the two Dwarves lifted the Hobbit into the air and flipped him onto his stomach. Oin busied himself with wrapping the straps around Bilbo’s ankles and wrists. He hesitated at the Hobbit’s waist, though.

“I don’t want to hurt him anymore,” Oin said over Bilbo’s screams.

“Here,” Dwalin said. He undid the strap for Bilbo’s waist from the examination table and moved it up to chest-height. Bilbo’s screams turned to sobs as the strap was tightened across his back. Dwalin fetched another strap from the cupboard and tied this one over Bilbo’s thighs to hold him down.

“It’s alright, laddie,” Oin cooed, stroking Bilbo’s hair. The Hobbit’s sniffled and turned his face away from Oin. The move revealed his bloody ear. “What’s this?” the medic commented. Bilbo stiffened when Oin’s fingers brushed against his bloody ear.

“Will it need stitching?” Thorin asked. Oin folded the ear over, a confused expression on his face.

“Dwalin,” the medic said. “Bring me a wet cloth.” The warrior hastened to obey, soaking a cloth in the sink and wringing it out before handing it to Oin. The medic wiped away the dried blood then set the cloth aside. He folded the ear this way and that, examining it from every angle.

“Oin?” Thorin said. His medic looked at him with confused eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s healed,” Oin told him. Leaning forward, Thorin examined the Hobbit’s ear for himself. Scar tissue curved around the ear perfectly, looking weeks old.

“How is this possible?” Thorin asked. Oin could only shake his head, lost for an answer.

“What about his leg?” Dwalin asked. He snatched the wet cloth from beside Oin and used it to wipe the blood away from Bilbo’s left calf. Oin examined the scar there and scratched his chin in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” the medic said. “Hobbits do not have any ability to heal themselves. These look like the work of medical mites.”

“There’s nothin’ but Goblins on the Mountains,” Dwalin said. “And they don’t have medical mites down there.”

“How else would these injuries heal so quickly?” Oin asked the warrior. Dwalin hesitated, searching for answer, before he shrugged. Bilbo tugged weakly against the restraints and Thorin laid a comforting hand on his calf.

“Check his back,” Thorin ordered. Dwalin passed Oin the wet cloth. Wiping away the blood, Oin examined the fresh scar. He ran a finger along the healed skin and Bilbo yelped.

“This one is still tender,” Oin muttered. “Dwalin, fetch the x-ray pad. Thorin, spread the gel over his lower back.” Dwalin tossed Thorin the tube of gel and dug in the drawer for the blue pad. Squirting the gel onto Bilbo’s skin, Thorin spread it carefully with a finger. Bilbo whimpered pathetically, pressing his face into the examination table.

“That’s enough,” Oin said. Thorin pulled back, wiping his fingers on his pants. Oin laid the blue pad along Bilbo’s back and pressed down lightly. “Alright, I’ll need the lights off for this.” Dwalin hurried to flick the lights off, plunging the room into darkness. Several seconds passed during which Oin fiddled with a remote. Finally, a small screen on the wall flickered on with an x-ray of Bilbo’s lower back. Oin examined the screen for several minutes.

“Well?” Dwalin finally demanded. Oin waved a hand at him and continued to examine it. Eventually he pulled back and nodded to Dwalin who flicked the lights back on.

“A few of his vertebrae have been knocked out of place,” the medic said. “The tissue and discs have already healed in place.”

“The mysterious medical mites?” Thorin asked. Oin nodded. “What can you do about it?” Oin hesitated before answering.

“I would recommend surgery,” he said. “To move the vertebrae back into their proper place.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there,” Dwalin growled.

“There is always a ‘but’,” Oin snapped back. “If there are medical mites in Bilbo then they could hinder the surgery. I would need an EMP blast before I tried to do the surgery.” Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking through his options. Seeming to read his mind, Oin continued. “If the vertebrae are left where they are then Bilbo could find himself in extreme pain in a few weeks’ time, maybe even a few days.” Thorin made up his mind.

“Find Bofur,” Thorin told Dwalin. “Get the EMP generator from him.”

“Bofur has an EMP generator?” Dwalin asked in disbelief.

“He has to,” Oin said. “With the amount of time he spends tinkering in the engine room. Go get it.” Dwalin gave them both dubious looks before he unlocked the medical bay doors and left. “Might as well prepare Bilbo for surgery,” the medic said once the warrior had left. Thorin turned back to watch as Oin gathered the supplies.

“What can I do?” Thorin asked.

“Get an anesthesia mask on him,” Oin ordered, nodding to a cupboard. “Better to put him under now rather than later.”

Opening the cupboard, Thorin found the mask. He positioned the rubber medical piece over Bilbo’s mouth and nose. The Hobbit watched him with a glassy expression, a tear running down his face. Thorin wiped it away with a thumb before moving on to lock the mask behind Bilbo’s head. Oin connected the other end of the instrument to a tube, fiddling with a series of dials. A hissing sound emitted from the machine. Slowly, Bilbo’s eyes slid shut and his breathing deepened.

“And now we wait.” Oin said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ùhùrud means 'battle' in Khuzdul. I thought it fit Thorin's ship for a name. I will update as soon as I can! I have finished with the first movie, onto the second one!


	24. Trial and Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to both Jimiel and Shanai for your reviews! You guys are faster at this than Fanfiction is. Please keep it up. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside . . . and it makes me want to write another chapter. Seriously. I was on the school bus on the way back from a field trip when I read your review, Jimiel. I quick whipped out my laptop and started working on the next chapter. Thank you! Also, play on words!

**Trial and Terror**

“That’s the best I can do,” Oin said, setting the surgical tools aside. “Now we just have to wait and see what happens.” Thorin pulled his hands away from Bilbo’s back.

Dwalin had returned with an EMP generator – to both Bofur’s confusion and his own bafflement – not five minutes after Thorin had sent him. Following Bofur’s careful instructions, they had connected small, round sensors to Bilbo’s shoulders and hips. Oin had been the one to press the button, waiting a few seconds before he had pulled the sensors away. Thorin and Dwalin had helped with the surgery as best they could. Neither Dwarf had served in the medical area of the military, preferring to deal out the injuries themselves. Though they did know basic first aid.

“Will he be alright?” Dwlain asked Oin. The medic could only sigh and shake his head.

“Only time can tell,” he said. “If I’m right, the EMP should wear off in a matter of minutes. Bilbo’s back will heal back together with a small scar and then we’ll have our hands full of an angry Hobbit.”

“Thank you, Oin,” Thorin said. And he meant it. He had been so preoccupied with the idea of reclaiming Erebor he had nearly forgotten Gandalf’s words. There would have no point in returning to the Lonely Mountain if the one they were going for was dead.

“I’m the medic,” Oin said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s my job to take care of the injured.” Snapping the blue gloves off, he tossed them into the trash. Thorin slipped his own off and balled them up.

“Aye, well, we all need to take better care of Bilbo,” Dwalin said. He tossed his own gloves into the trash, pausing when he noticed Thorin and Oin’s stares. “Gloin told me on the flight over: Bilbo’s scared of fallin’. He thinks no one’s goin’ to be there to catch him if he does.” Oin shook his head in disbelief.

“The poor laddie,” he said. “How long do you think he’s been alone for?”

“Apparently he’s a bachelor,” Dwalin said. Thorin leaned against the counter behind him, listening intently. “Doesn’t have any siblings or cousins close to his age. His parents died a few years ago.”

“Then he has been on his own for some time now,” Thorin said. He turned his gaze to the peaceful face of the Hobbit.

“Maybe that’s why he agreed with Gandalf on going to the Government,” Dwalin suggested. “He didn’t have anythin’ to stay for.”

“Perhaps,” Thorin agreed. Oin’s eyes flicked down and the medic stiffened. Thorin straightened up. All three Dwarves watched as Bilbo’s skin seemed to knit itself back together. A smooth scar ran along the freshly healed injury.

“That’s somethin’ you don’t see every day,” Dwlain breathed.

“I’ve seen it enough with this laddie,” Oin said. He grabbed a small device from a counter: a small, handheld gadget with a wire connecting to a wand-like probe. Thorin watched as the medic ran the probe along Bilbo’s body twice, finally stopping at the Hobbit’s lungs when the gadget went ballistic beeping.

“What’s that mean?” Dwalin asked. Oin set the probe aside and pulled a sensor from a drawer, plugging its wire into the gadget.

“That is the heart of the medical mite infestation,” Oin said, fiddling with the gadget. He taped the sensor on Bilbo’s back over his lungs. “It will be better to eradicate the mites here where they’re more gathered.”

“Makes sense,” Dwalin said.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Thorin asked his medic.

“You can hold this,” Oin said. Thorin accepted the offered gadget. “I want you to watch the screen and tell me when it’s cleared off all medical mites.”

“Alright,” Thorin said hesitantly. Red dots swarmed across the green screen, scattering about like insects. It made Thorin nervous. Had he been allowing Oin to put these things in his body the entire time?

“Dwalin, hold this,” Oin said, handing Dwalin the EMP generator. Dwalin took the device hesitantly.

“Are you goin’ to use this again?” he asked.

“No,” Oin said. “But with you two buffoons in here together, something’s going to get broken. I’d rather it not be one of Bofur’s gadgets.” Dwalin glared at him while Thorin hid a smile. Oin pressed a square, red pad beside the sensor of the gadget. He held a remote in his other hand.

“Alright,” the medic said. “Stay sharp, Thorin.” Thorin turned his eyes back down to the gadget’s screen. Oin pressed a red button on a remote. A yellow light blinked on the red pad three times before it turned green. The red dots skittering across the screen vanished first one by one until it multiplied. The screen was left bare.

“All clear,” Thorin said. Oin nodded to him and he set the gadget aside. “Make sure Bilbo is comfortable when he wakes up,” he told the medic. “Dwalin, I want you to . . . Dwalin?” The taller Dwarf stared at the gadget in Thorin’s hand. He raised a shaking finger to point at it. Thorin turned his gaze back down. Red dots multiplied across the screen even as he watched. “Oin!” Thorin roared. The medic snatched the gadget from him and stared at the screen in disbelief.

“But that’s not possible,” Oin said. Dwalin caught the gadget as it was tossed aside carelessly. Oin grabbed the remote and pressed down on the red button once more. The yellow and green lights flashed. The three Dwarves held their breath as they watched the screen. First the red dots symbolizing the mites died away before returning with a vigor. Oin jammed the button down five more times. Each attempt was followed by the mass reproduction of the medical mites.

“How’s that happenin’?” Dwalin demanded, looking up from the screen. Oin’s eyes had gone wide with his growing disbelief.

“I-I don’t know,” Oin said.

“We need Bofur down here,” Thorin said. Turning to the intercom system, he jammed the black button down. “Bofur, get down the medical bay now!” He released the button and stepped back. None of the Dwarves spoke in the short amount of time it took for Bofur to make his way to the medical bay. The engineer stepped through the doors, a smear of grease on his cheek.

“Somethin’ wron’, Thorin?” Bofur asked. His eyes flicked to the sleeping Bilbo then to the horrified expressions of Dwalin and Oin. “Did Dwalin eat somethin’ bad fer his pipes again?” The joke didn’t lighten the mood.

“Explain this,” Thorin said, shoving the gadget into Bofur’s hands. Oin pressed the button one more time. Bofur watched in growing wonder as the red dots vanished then duplicated.

“Are these my medical mites?” he asked Thorin once the screen had filled once more.

“No,” Oin said, answering for the captain. “Those have been in Bilbo ever since we got back here.”

“But how’s that possible?” Bofur asked. Oin could only shrug in answer. The engineer thought for a moment before he peeled the sensor from Bilbo’s back, the screen going blank, and turned to Dwalin. “Give me yer arm, big guy.”

“Why? What are you goin’ to-hey!” Dwalin exclaimed as Bofur slapped the sensor on his bare arm. The green screen filled with red dots.

“Thorin,” Bofur said, peeling the sensor from Dwalin’s arm. Thorin offered out his own arm. Oin was next, pulling his own sleeve up. Bofur tested himself, watching the screen with a furrowed expression.

“Well?” Oin demanded.

“W-We all have them,” Bofur said. His confused eyes turned up to Thorin. “But that’s not possible. None of us have been near any medical mites.” Thorin scratched his beard, thinking through his options. He could name only one person who might have the slightest idea of what was happening.

“Then how are we all infested with them?” Dwalin asked.

“I don’t know,” Bofur said. “Maybe the Elves did it back on Rivendell.”

“Not possible,” Oin said with a shake of his head. “We would have noticed something. Thorin, where are you going?” Thorin ignored the medic’s shouts as he left the medical bay. He raced through the dining room and up the stairs to the cockpit. Gandalf turned at his arrival, a smile growing on his lips.

“Ah, Thorin,” he said. “How is Bilbo doing?”

“The medical mites,” Thorin growled out. Fili turned to look at him in confusion. Kili’s head popped up from the lower levels of the cockpit. “Where did they come from?”

“What medical mites?” Gandalf asked with a frown.

“Bilbo is infested with medical mites,” Thorin said. “We all are. Bofur tested all of us.”

“Can’t Oin just order them to self-destruct?” Fili asked. He withered under his uncle’s cold eyes.

“He tried that, seven times.”

“Seven,” Gandalf repeated. “Medical mite infestations? I have not heard of this kind of problem before. Are you certain the machine was not simply acting up?”

“It was Bofur’s invention,” Thorin said. “Bofur’s machines are never wrong.”

“There’s always the chance,” Kili offered. He tumbled backward down the stairs when Thorin looked to him.

“Something tells me this was not Bofur’s fault,” Thorin said.

“Yes,” Gandalf agreed, leaning against his staff. “That would help to explain _the Eagles’_ presence on the Misty Mountains. Perhaps my friend will be able to help us.”

“What friend?” Thorin demanded. “What course have you set us on?”

“We are still going to Erebor,” Gandalf assured the Dwarf. “But we are stopping by a friend’s house for rest and supplies.”

“Your friends are hardly friendly.”

“Now really, Thorin, that was one time.”

“They hung us by meat hooks.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“Meat hooks, Gandalf, meat hooks!”

“I got a bloody nose from that one,” Kili said, his voice muffled by the distance. “And I think Fili threw up.”

“Shut up,” Fili told his brother. Gandalf turned back to Thorin with a meaningful expression.

“There will be no hanging from meat hooks this time,” he said firmly. “Beorn can be temperamental at times, but he is a good host. Perhaps he will know something about the Misty Mountains that could help us.”

“Where does he live?” Thorin asked.

“On a small moon near Carrock,” Gandalf said. “It is on the way to Erebor so we should not lose any time on our journey.”

“Carrock? That is on the edge of the Greenwood,” Thorin said.

“The Mirkwood,” Gandalf correct. Thorin frowned at him in confusion. “An illness has fallen over that moon. The Men who live near it are calling it Mirkwood now.”

“And that’s not creepy at all,” Fili muttered under his breath. Thorin smacked his nephew upside the head. Fili had the grace to look ashamed of himself. “Sorry, Thorin.”

“You would have had to go to Mirkwood anyway,” Gandalf reminded Thorin who frowned at him. “Beorn will be able to give you supplies and rest before you begin your journey through that dead space.”

“How far away does he live?” Thorin asked.

“Less than a day’s flight from here,” Gandalf answered. Thorin huffed and ran a hand through his hair. There would be no point in arguing with Gandalf. Half the time the wizard didn’t listen anyway.

“Is this where you will be leaving us?” Thorin asked.

“After I speak with Beorn, yes.”

“What of the pod we lost on the Misty Mountains? Do you need the other pod prepared for journey?”

“I was intending on taking _Gwahir._ _The Eagle_ has grown quite fond of me.”

“Besides,” Kili said from below. “I recalled that pod from the Misty Mountains. It’s recharging right now.” Gandalf turned to Thorin looking a bit smug.

“There you are, Thorin Oakenshield,” he said. “You still have four pods, an entire crew, and a straight journey to Erebor.”

“Indeed,” Thorin agreed. “Kili, Fili, I want you to head down to the medical bay when you get the chance. Have yourself tested by Bofur for medical mites.” Kili and Fili looked to each other nervously before they nodded. “I will be seeing you two at dinner tonight.” Thorin clapped Fili on the shoulder before turning and leaving. Bifur poked his head out from the engine room but said nothing to stop his captain.

Thorin arrived in the dining area just in time to see Dori taking Bilbo’s clothes from Dwalin. The shorter Dwarf nodded to something Dwalin had said and turned away back toward the sleeping quarters. Thorin watched him go before turning to Dwalin in slight confusion.

“He’s repairin’ Bilbo’s clothes,” Dwalin said. “I asked if he could make some gauntlets for Bilbo too.”

“Gauntlets for what?” Thorin asked, his confusion growing. Dwalin hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

“Bilbo bites himself in his sleep,” the taller Dwarf said. Thorin’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. “I wanted Dori to make somethin’ for him so he’ll stop hurtin’ himself.”

“Very well,” Thorin said. He stood at the base of the stairs, watching Dwalin. The taller Dwarf made no move to leave the dining area. His right hand dipped into his pocket and his fingers close around something. Thorin frowned. “What is it, Dwalin?”

“I found somethin’ in Bilbo’s pocket,” Dwalin said hesitantly. Thorin nodded for him to continue. “Bilbo must have found it on the Misty Mountains.”

“What is it?” Thorn asked curiously. Dwalin drew his hand out of his pocket and opened his palm for Thorin to look. A gold ring sat there, nestled against the knuckledusters.

“A ring?” Thorin asked, looking up to his friend. “What is so strange about a ring? Bilbo might have had from the Shire System.”

“I doubt it,” Dwalin said. He closed his hand once more. “Bilbo doesn’t have anything from the Shire System. Those smugglers took everything he had.”

“Very well, what makes you so nervous about this ring?”

“I don’t like it. It feels wrong.”

Thorin looked down at the ring. It looked normal enough to him: a single round band clean of any markings.

“It is a ring,” Thorin said. Dwalin nodded, still looking nervous. In the end Thorin sighed. “Have Bofur take a look at it, or else wait until Bilbo wakes up.” Dwalin nodded eagerly and trotted off to find Bofur, leaving his captain to wonder the abilities of the ring. Something didn’t sit right with Thorin about it.

O.o.O

_He couldn’t move. His back screamed in pain at the point where it had broken. His arms refused to obey the commands his brain sent them. He could only lay on the stone path and listen as the hissing voice drew nearer and nearer._

_“Where iss it? Give it to uss? We wantss our preciouss.”_

_‘Please,’ Bilbo thought to himself. ‘Someone help me. Don’t let him get me.’ He heard the sound of bare feet and hands on the floor drawing near. A tear ran down his cheek, plopping uselessly on the stone beneath him._

_“Give it back.” A hands grabbed at Bilbo’s legs. They crawled up his calves and past his hips until they wrapped around Bilbo’s throat. Gollum’s teeth clicked beside Bilbo’s ear as he spoke. “You sstole it from uss. You sstole our preciouss.”_

_‘I didn’t steal anything,’ Bilbo wanted to scream. His lungs refused to work, though. His tongue moved and his throat choked but no words came out. Gollum’s lamp-like eyes lowered down until they were level with Bilbo’s own. Bilbo’s stomach twisted at the fury in them._

_“Give it to uss,” Gollum hissed. Those long, cold fingers tightened their grip. Bilbo’s heart leapt as his throat was crushed, his airflow constricted. “No mother down here to ssave you. No friendss to help you.”_

_‘Dwalin,’ Bilbo pleaded. ‘Please. Bofur, Dwalin, Kili . . . anyone.’ He couldn’t breathe. Black dots swarmed across his vision. His heart battered against his rib cage. His lungs screamed for the air he was refused. Bilbo shut his eyes tight, willing his body to move. The blood pounded through his ears. He was going to die, alone and helpless. No one would save him._

Bilbo bolted upright from the platform, gasping for breath. He raised a hand to his throat. The skin was still cool under his touch, no bruising of any kind. It had all been a dream. Falling back, Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief. He was alive. Gollum hadn’t come to kill him. It had all been a nightmare.

_“The itsy bitsy fly.”_

Bilbo swore he would never stay up that late ever again. Next time he would obey Oin like a puppy and scoot off to bed.

_“Caught in a web.”_

Throwing a hand over his eyes, Bilbo sighed hard through his nose. It had been a long day on the ship. Kili had wanted to play Spider in the Net again, but Bilbo hadn’t quite been up for it. His back still ached occasionally from the surgery Oin had done.

_“Why does it cry?”_

Bilbo froze at the clicking words. He knew those voices. They hissed and popped with everything they spoke. His breath caught in his throat at the next words.

_“Soon you’ll be dead.”_

Hands grabbed Bilbo from behind and threw him off the platform. He barely had a moment to scream, or even consider it, when he hit the net below. The net jumped with his landing and he was tossed in the air. Something landed behind him, jostling his next landing.

_“A tasty fly for a tasty lunch.”_

Long fingers grabbed at Bilbo. He screamed and struggled but they held fast. They grabbed his ankles, pulling his legs out straight. More hands joined them and grabbed his wrists. Together the hands flipped Bilbo over. He found himself staring at tall Men dressed in black, their bulbous goggles hiding their eyes.

 _“Wrap him up tight,”_ the voices clicked. Bilbo swore he could hear laughter in them as his heart sped up. He struggled wildly and screamed for help as they wrapped his arms and legs to the net with bindings. Nothing he did stopped them. They laughed and clicked to each other. The bindings wound round and round until at last Bilbo was wrapped up tight.

 _“Nice and juicy,”_ the voices clicked. _“Nice and crunchy. Good for eating.”_

“Gandalf!” Bilbo shouted helplessly. The Men above him skittered away, crawling along the net like spiders. “Gandalf, help!” _Twang, twang, twang._ Bilbo turned his head to see the Men cutting the ropes of the net. The ends flew through the air like ribbons, the net dipping further and further with every loss of support. “GANDALF!”

 _“Good for eating,”_ the Men clicked. _“Good for money. Good for . . . nothing.”_ The last rope snapped on its own and sent Bilbo plummeting to the floor of the cargo bay. He landed hard in the waiting box.

 _“Good for nothing,”_ the Men clicked as they advanced on the box. _“Waste of space. Useless. Hopeless. Frightened.”_ Bilbo struggled against the net wrapped about him. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs. His heart pounded against his chest. He was helpless.

A Man stepped up to tower over the box and Bilbo. It reached up for the edge of its mask. Catching the edge, it peeled the mask back. Terror flooded Bilbo’s stomach. Thorin glared down at him, hatred in his eyes.

“A waste of space,” Thorin said in a clicking and hissing voice. “Useless.”

“Worthless,” another voice added. Bilbo turned to see Dwalin looking down at him with a hungry expression. Nori and Bofur joined, each grabbing a corner of the box’s lid.

“You know what we do to people we don’t like?” Nori asked, his voice popping with the words. Bilbo wrenched at his arms but to no avail. He was stuck like a fly in a trap.

“We lock them away,” Bofur answered.

“No, please,” Bilbo begged. “Please don’t do this.”

_“Goodbye, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said. Bilbo watched in horror as the lid fell crashing down on top of him. Cold air hissed into the box. The ice crystals flurried into his lungs, sending freezing pain through him. Bilbo’s struggles weakened as the ice took over his body. It froze the very blood in his veins. It stole his breath from his lungs. He was helpless as his eyes slipped shut and he fell away into a dreamless sleep._

Bilbo woke up screaming. He bolted upright in the bed, staring wide eyed at the wall before him. He screamed and screamed and screamed. And when he ran out of breath he inhaled and screamed some more. His vision clouded over and everything looked as though he was looking through a fogged up glass. A shadow approached him quickly. A hiss sounded as something opened, a door maybe. Arms wrapped around him. Guttural words were whispered in his ears. Fingers carded through his hair. But still Bilbo screamed. He couldn’t stop. He had to warn the others about the intruders on the ship. The whispered words turned into loud shouts. Another figure approached Bilbo and handed something over. The arms left for a second to be replaced by bindings. They wrapped about his arms and over his head. He felt himself lifted off the bed and carried. And still he screamed.

“Bilbo,” someone said. Harsh words followed his name. The scream stopped dead in Bilbo’s throat. That was a good sound. He knew that sound. It brought kindness and a strong anchor in the sea of terror. “Bilbo,” the voice said again. Bilbo let his head fall against the support holding him. He ignored the rocking motion and only focused on the movement of his support’s chest. He could hear a sturdy beat in his ear. This was nice. He could stay like this forever. The hands lowered him and Bilbo found himself wrapped in a tight embrace as he drifted off back to sleep.

Bilbo didn’t know how long he slept. It could have been only a few short hours or even a few days. Time was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the beating sound beneath his ear and the words that rumbled through the chest.

“We must away, ‘ere break of day,” a strong voice sang softly. “To find our long forgotten home.” Bilbo shifted against the warm body beneath him. The song cut off. “Bilbo?”

“Don’t stop,” Bilbo muttered. He frowned when the body under him shook with chuckles.

“Are you here this time, Bilbo?”

“Where else would I be?” Bilbo asked. He cracked open an eye to see Dwalin looking down at him uncertainly.

“In a very bad place,” Dwalin answered. Bilbo shifted in his grasp but Dwalin tightened his grip. The Dwarf took the edge of a blanket and wrapped it tighter around Bilbo.

“What happened?” Bilbo asked, flinching at the soreness of his throat.

“Do you remember anythin’?” Dwalin asked. When Bilbo shook his head he sighed. “You were havin’ a nightmare. You woke up screamin’ and nothin’ would make you stop. Thorin wanted to dope you again, but I said no. I brought you to my room to help you sleep better.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Bilbo asked in a bare whisper. Dwalin sniffed as he counted the time.

“Seventeen hours,” the Dwarf finally said. “Oin said you would still be tired from the anesthesia. Now tell the truth, do you remember anythin’?” Bilbo shook his head again. Dwalin glared at him suspiciously and suddenly Bilbo found his head crushed against Dwalin’s chest. The sound of Dwalin’s heart pounded in his ear. With each beat he could hear the words: _truth . . . truth . . . truth._ He broke like a flooded dam.

“He came back,” Bilbo sobbed. “He knows I stole it and h-he came back to g-get it. A-And then I woke up but I was st-still dreaming. And they came back to get me. And then it wasn’t them it was you and you locked me in the box and said I was a waste of space and useless and worthless.”

“Hold on,” Dwalin said. Fingers carded through Bilbo’s hair. The Dwarf’s next words rumbled through his chest. “We don’t think you’re a waste of space. You’re part of the crew, Bilbo. You belon’ with us now.”

“Y-You mean it?” Bilbo whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Aye, I mean everything I say,” Dwalin said. “Now who’s tryin’ to kill you?”

“Gollum,” Bilbo said. He raised his head, pushing against Dwalin’s head, and looked the warrior in the eye. “H-He was a creature I met down in the caverns. He tried to kill me.”

“But you escaped?” Dwlain said. Bilbo nodded as the Dwarf wiped the tears from his face. “How?”

“W-We had a game of riddles,” Bilbo told the Dwarf. “If I won then he’d show me the way out. If he won then . . .”

“Then?”

“Then he’d eat me whole,” Bilbo whispered the words.

“You lost?” Dwalin guessed. Bilbo shook his head. “You won. He showed you the way out?”

“N-No,” Bilbo said through tears. “H-He got mad that I won and tried to kill me. So I ran away from him into the tunnels. I tripped, though, and fell over. He couldn’t see me when he ran after me.” Dwalin stared at him for several seconds before he spoke.

“And he killed you in your nightmare?” Dwalin asked. Bilbo nodded then burrowed his face in Dwalin’s chest. Dwlain wrapped his arms around the Hobbit, holding him tight. “And what about these others fellas who attacked you.”

“Spiders,” Bilbo whispered. “They trapped me in a web. You trapped me in a web.”

“Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” Dwalin said. Bilbo looked up at him through water eyes. “Spider in the Net is just a game. If you don’t like it then we can stop playin’. I don’t think the others will mind. They’ll just find something else to play.” Bilbo didn’t answer as he burrowed his face in Dwalin’s chest. Mumbled words reached Dwalin’s ear and the Dwarf frowned. “I can’t hear what you said.” Bilbo turned his head so he could speak properly.

“When are they going to stop?” Bilbo asked. Dwalin’s arms, if possible, wrapped tighter around him. “Am I going to keep having nightmares?”

“As long as you don’t talk,” Dwalin said into Bilbo’s hair. “You’re hidin’ somethin’ you need to say but don’t want to. Until you tell us, the nightmares will keep on comin’.”

“It’s scary,” Bilbo said.

“I know, but you need to talk about it.”

“I don’t even know myself.”

“You will, one day. Now go back to sleep.” Bilbo sighed and burrowed against Dwalin’s chest. He slipped into a peaceful sleep wrapped in the Dwarf’s strong arms.

O.o.O

Bofur sucked on his finger, glaring at the ring on the table. Dwalin had brought him the ring and had asked him to examine it. After running extensive tests with no results, Bofur had finally slipped the ring on his finger. He hadn’t been expecting the sharp pain to run through his finger. The pain had run through his entire body until he’d finally wrenched it off. Now as Bofur glared at the ring, he made up his mind.

He didn’t like this ring one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so in the book Bilbo actually told the Dwarves and Gandalf about the ring. So I decided that would make a good scene . . . and it just sort of happened. Whoops! Meh, these things happen.


	25. Dangers and Dreads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little late, I go busy today and didn't have time to write until tonight. Here's a trick for you, since its' Halloween: did you know if you say orange really slowly it sounds like gullible?
> 
> Happy Halloween!

**Dangers and Dreads**

Dwalin awoke to the sensation of cold air blowing across his bare back. For a moment he wondered why he had even woke up. Then another breeze tickled his skin and he shivered. He reached behind himself blindly for the sheets. His fingers scraped against the fitted sheet, finding nothing else. Grumbling to himself, Dwalin rolled over to see a bundle of blankets at the foot of his bed. Sometime during the night Bilbo had stolen them and made a nest for himself. The pillows atop the mess explained the crick in Dwalin’s neck.

“Bilbo,” Dwalin grumbled. He turned over and crawled to the bundle of blankets. The mess rose and fell slowly with the breaths of the Hobbit, occasionally shifting in place. “Bilbo, you stole the blankets.” Dwalin ran his fingers along to the bundle to find a seam. He could find none, though. The Hobbit had wrapped himself up tight. “Bilbo, wake up.”

“Brother?” Dwalin turned to see his older brother blinking blearily at him. Trust the old codger to wake up now and not any other time of the night. “What happened?”

“Bilbo stole the blankets,” Dwlain said in a hushed voice. Balin sat up in his bed in order to see better. “He won’t wake up.”

“He looks quite comfortable,” Balin commented. Dwalin snorted and returned to finding a break in the blankets. Bilbo shifted, the mess moving with him. “Leave him be, brother, he deserves a good night’s rest.”

“I’m cold,” Dwalin argued, digging at the blankets. “You know I can’t sleep when I’m cold.”

“Then go fetch another blanket,” Balin suggested. Dwalin looked at him like he was crazy. Balin sighed and stood from his bed, moving to Dwalin’s. He gently nudged the mass that was Bilbo. “Master Baggins, Bilbo, you are making my brother cold.

“Mph,” a sleepy voice mumbled something unintelligible. The blankets shifted aside, moving away from Balin’s hand. Balin smiled at that.

“Come on, Bilbo,” Dwalin tried. “I just want to go back to sleep. Give me some of the blankets and we’ll be fine.”

“Nyan,” Bilbo said in a squealing voice. The blankets wrapped tighter around him. Dwalin looked to his brother.

“Did he just say _nyan_?”

“I believe he did,” Balin said, not evening bothering to hide his mirth. “He sounded rather like a cat.”

“Well the _pundurith_ needs to give me back my blankets,” Dwalin said. He gently shoved at Bilbo.

“Nakid,” Bilbo said. Dwalin frowned and leaned closer to hear better. When he poked the mess Bilbo spoke again. “Not kitty.”

“ _Pundurith_ , give me back the blankets,” Dwalin said. That earned him a clocking on the nose from a shifting body. Dwalin sat back, blinking in surprise. “ _Pundurith_.”

“Not kitty,” Bilbo said again. He rolled over on the bed. “Sleepy.”

“Master Baggins,” Balin said in a warning tone. Bilbo whined and the blankets wiggled.

“Bilbo, you need to stop,” Dwalin tried. The Hobbit ignored him and rolled farther away . . . and right off the bed. His squeal of surprise turned to a grunt when Balin caught him before he hit the floor. Crawling forward, Dwalin helped his older brother return the Hobbit to the bed. He found a corner and peeled the blankets away. A ruffled looking Bilbo glared sleepily at him.

“That was dangerous, _Pundurith_ ,” Dwalin told Bilbo who stuck his tongue out at him. Balin sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Tired,” Bilbo moaned, falling sideways. He made to pull the blankets back over himself but Dwalin grabbed them. “Gimme.”

“Not unless you ask nicely,” Dwlain said.

“Try to end this soon,” Balin told his younger brother. “Good night.” He made his way back his own bed, falling asleep in seconds. His snores filled the air. Dwalin glared at his older brother. Trust him to wake up, trust him to leave Dwalin to do the dirty work. Dwalin turned back to Bilbo who was busy trying to wrap himself up again.

“No you don’t,” Dwalin growled. Bilbo squealed in surprise when Dwalin grabbed his ankles and dragged the Hobbit back up the bed. Tossing the Hobbit at the head of the bed, Dwalin grabbed the pillows and blanket before he crawled up beside Bilbo. The Hobbit grumbled but burrowed himself against the warmer Dwarf. Pulling the blankets over the two of them, Dwalin wrapped his arms around Bilbo. He listened as Bilbo shifted against him, eventually sighing and falling asleep. Dwalin’s eyes slipped shut and he allowed himself to drift back to sleep.

He woke up the next morning to cold air and a nested Hobbit once more.

“Aw, come on!”

O.o.O

Thorin looked up as Bofur stomped down the stairs. The usually happy engineer wore a grumpy expression. He glared at Thorin before marching into the kitchen and grabbing the coffee carafe. He fell into the chair across from his captain. Thorin stirred the tea bag in his cup of tea, slightly thankful he hadn’t decided to have any coffee. Some mornings Bofur was not to be bothered until he had drank the entire carafe of coffee. Bofur took a long drink from the carafe, wincing at the strong brew, then set it down. He propped his heels up on an empty chair.

“Bofur,” Thorin greeted tiredly.

“Thorin,” Bofur said back. The two fell into a tired silence before the engineer spoke. “I tested that ring like ya wanted me ta.” Thorin looked up from pondering whether his tea was worth drinking now.

“What did you discover?” he asked.

“Nothin’,” Bofur grumbled. “Bless me, I must have done every test I could on that rin’ and I still couldn’t learn a thin’ about it. Except that it bites.”

“It bites?” Thorin repeated. Bofur nodded then took a long drink from the carafe. “Bofur, rings cannot bite people.”

“This one does,” Bofur argued over the rim of the carafe. “I put it on me finger and it bit me. Made me fell all weird ‘til I took it off. Where did ya even get that rin’?”

“Dwalin found it in Bilbo’s coat pocket,” Thorin said. Bofur lowered the carafe, looking interested. “We believe he may have found it on the Misty Mountains.”

“Maybe it’s his,” Bofur suggested. “He could’ve had it from the Shire System and he just never knew.”

“I already suggested that,” Thorin said. “Dwalin says the smugglers would have taken anything that belonged to Bilbo when they captured him. And I do not believe this ring was given to him by the Elves.” Bofur hummed in agreement. Silence lapsed over them as they thought.

“Oi!” Thorin looked up at Dwalin’s shout. Bofur leaned back in his chair to try and see what was going on. “Get back here, you little thief!” A familiar blur raced through the eating area and down the stairs. Thorin and Bofur both blinked in surprise.

“What was that?” Bofur asked Thorin who could only continue to blink in befuddlement. He could have sworn the shadow of the Hobbit lingered in the room with them. Dwlain stormed out of the sleeping quarters, his head whipping back and forth.

“Where is he?” Dwalin demanded. “Where is that little thief?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Bofur asked. Dwalin stormed into the dining area, ducking to look under the table. “Are you lookin’ fer Bilbo?”

“Aye,” Dwalin said. He checked the kitchen area next.

“What has he done this time?” Thorin asked. Dwalin straightened up to look at him. The anger in his eyes was almost hilarious.

“He stole the blankets,” Dwalin said. Bofur roared with laughter and he frowned. “It’s not funny. The rooms get cold at night.”

“Good thin’ I sleep near the engine room,” Bofur said. He raised the carafe to his lips and took a long draw, yelping when Dwalin tipped his chair further backward. The engineer landed with a crash on the floor. The beloved coffee splashed over him, leaving the Dwarf sputtering in the hot drink.

“He headed for the cargo bay,” Thorin told Dwalin. “He is most likely going to his private place.” Dwalin growled and stormed away down the stairs.

“There was no need fer him ta push me over,” Bofur grumbled as he pulled himself upright. Thorin huffed in amusement, shaking his head. The engineer looked mournfully into the empty carafe. “And now I need more coffee.”

“You could wait until Bombur woke up.”

“That would be too lon’.”

“Then make it yourself.”

“I’m too tired.”

Thorin shook his head as the engineer began to mutter to himself. Standing, he took his cold tea to the sink to pour it out. A pained shout from Dwalin caused his head to jerk up. Another shout carried up the stairwell followed by Dwalin yelling furiously.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bofur asked. Thorin ignored him, charging from the room and throwing himself down the stairs to the cargo bay. A hand shot out and grabbed Thorin by the lapels, dragging him back before he could enter the bay. Dwalin pinned him back against the wall.

“Dwalin,” Thorin said breathlessly. “What happened?”

“I came down here to get the little thief,” Dwalin said. “He started throwin’ things at me.” Thorin looked at him for a moment before he stepped past his friend, ignoring Dwalin’s warnings. He stepped out into the cargo bay.

“Bilbo,” he said aloud. “Come down from there.” A small stone flew past his head, striking the wall behind him, and Thorin stepped back. More stones flew at him, sending the Dwarf stumbling back. Dwalin snatched him and dragged him back to the safety of the stairwell.

“What did I tell you?” Dwalin said. “He’s throwin’ things at us now. Got a deadly aim, too.” Thorin rubbed his shoulder where a stone had struck him. Gandalf’s previous words returned to his mind.

_“Given projectiles, a properly angry Hobbit is a forced to be reckoned with.”_

“Did you make him angry?” Thorin asked Dwalin in a hushed voice. Dwalin blinked as he thought through the question. “What happened?”

“He stole the blankets in the night,” Dwalin told his captain. “So I took them back. He stole them again this morning and I twisted his ear for it.” Thorin sighed, letting his head fall forward.

“That was your first mistake,” a voice said behind the Dwarves. Thorin looked up to see Gandalf standing in the stairs. “Hobbits have rather sensitive ears, more sensitive than an Elf or Dwarf’s. They also enjoy warmth when they sleep. Bilbo has always had a tendency to make himself nests when he has slept.”

“He hasn’t done it before,” Dwalin said.

“He did not trust you before,” Gandalf told him. Dwalin blinked in surprise. “Bilbo is not a very trusting Hobbit. He has only ever slept well when he entirely trusted another.” Thorin’s eyebrows traveled up his forehead. “I would recommend you to add more blankets to your bed, Master Dwalin, if you do not want Bilbo stealing them anymore.”

“What do you recommend for right now?” Thorin asked. Gandalf looked up, considering the question as Bilbo threw a few more stones in their general direction. Each stone struck the wall and left a small dent.

“I would recommend finding someone to reason with our Hobbit,” the wizard said. When Thorin gave him a pointed look he laughed. “And that would not be me. Bilbo is not overly fond of me at the moment for the trouble I have brought upon him.”

“Balin,” Dwalin said. Thorin looked to him and he nodded back at Bilbo. “Bilbo likes him well enough. Maybe he can talk some sense into the Halflin’.”

“Go get him,” Thorin ordered. Dwalin pounded up the stairs. Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head, and made his way after the Dwarf. No doubt he was going to make himself more tea. Thorin listened intently. A voice seemed to carry through the cargo bay. Bilbo had started to sing a song Thorin didn’t recognize.

_“Hey! Ho! To the bottle I go,_

_To heal my heart and drown my woe,_

_The rain may pour, the wind may blow,_

_And there may be many miles to go.”_

Thorin couldn’t help but smile at the song. He had never heard Bilbo sing before, though he knew Hobbits were fond of both drink and merry songs. The words continued to ring through the cargo bay. Leaning back, Thorin let them wash over him. He could see it now. A quiet, peaceful people dancing under the lights of a party tree. Bilbo would dance with pretty young women who would laugh and twirl, the ribbons in their hair rustling in the wind.

“Thorin, what is going on?” Bilbo’s words cut off and Thorin opened his eyes to see Balin standing before him. The older Dwarf wore a confused expression, his hands on his hips. “Dwalin woke me up saying you needed me.”

“I may have made Bilbo mad,” Dwalin said from behind his brother.

“He has started throwing things,” Thorin told Balin. “He refuses to listen to either Dwalin or I, and Gandalf will not help.” Balin sighed and shook his head. Stepping forward, he spoke to Bilbo.

“Laddie, it is me, Balin.” Thorin listened as the Dwarf continued to speak to the Hobbit. No stones flew his way and Bilbo answered peacefully enough.

“Perhaps Gandalf was right,” Dwalin said to Thorin. “He isn’t hurtin’ Balin at all.”

“That would be a first,” Thorin said. Dwalin laughed, shaking his head. Both Dwarves straightened up as Balin stepped back inside.

“Master Baggins is angry with both of you,” he said.

“Well that’s easy to see,” Dwalin said. Balin gave his younger brother and exasperated look. “Sorry.”

“What else?” Thorin asked.

“As I was saying before Dwalin interrupted me,” Balin said, glaring at his younger brother. Dwalin shrugged apologetically. “Bilbo is angry at the two of your for forcing him to get the surgery done by Oin. He does not appreciate it and will stay angry at you for as long as he wants.”

“How lon’ will that be?” Dwalin asked.

“None of us will know,” Balin said. He made to move up the stairs then paused, turning to look at Dwalin. “And Bilbo says if you ever twist his ear again he will slice your calf with his sword.” Dwalin’s eyes widened in shock. Nodding a good morning to the two Dwarves, Balin stormed back up the stairs. Dwalin turned to Thorin.

“What do we do now?” he asked his captain.

“Leave him alone,” Thorin said. “Bilbo will come down when he wants to.” Dwalin looked up at the rafters dubiously. “Unless you want to be attacked by a properly furious Hobbit.” Thorin watched Dwalin shook his head then turned followed his brother up the stairs. Thorin made to follow him, but paused when words reached his ears.

_“Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,_

_And the stream that falls from hill to plain,_

_Better than rain or rippling brook,_

_Is a mug of beer inside this Took.”_

Shaking his head at the words, Thorin marched up the stairs to find himself breakfast.

O.o.O

Bilbo spent the entire day on the platform. Bifur brought him both breakfast and lunch, sitting in a comfortable silence with the Hobbit. He had only left to tend the engine when Bofur called him down. During these times Bilbo would take naps or sing quietly to himself. If Bofur, Ori, Kili, Fili, or Nori ever wandered into the cargo bay he sent them fleeing with a pounding of pebbles. At one point he’d had to climb down from his platform to gather his ammunition. When Dwalin and Balin had wandered down some times he had frightened them off with the pebbles.

“Wonderful,” he had heard Balin say. “Now he has projectiles again.”

Bifur returned to Bilbo’s platform with a snack sometime after lunch. Bilbo had been happy to see the Dwarf. Siting up there had been starting to get lonely. Bifur sat and sang to himself tunelessly while Bilbo munched on the dried fruit and crackers. A tap on his shoulder made Bilbo look up. Bifur pointed at him, then to himself, and then to his own mouth.

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo said bluntly. He had learned quickly Bifur didn’t mind bluntness. In fact, he preferred it. The Dwarf hated it whenever someone spoke in riddles. It gave him a headache.

Bifur pointed at himself, his mouth this time, and then Bilbo. Bilbo just shook his head. Bifur huffed and scratched his beard, thinking. Finally, he opened his mouth. The words he spoke almost made Bilbo’s mouth fall open.

“I . . . t-teach . . . y-you,” Bifur said in stuttering and halting voice, and then he made several signs with his hands.

“You want to teach me?” Bilbo asked. Bifur nodded excitedly. “Iglishmek.” More nodding. Bilbo stared at the Dwarf, still in wonder at the Dwarf’s broken speech. Bifur snapped his fingers in Bilbo’s face and the Hobbit shook his head. “Sorry, I was just surprised when you spoke.” Bifur made a hand sign. Bilbo squinted at him in confusion. Bifur made the hand sign again and then grabbed his head, making a face as if he was in pain.

“It hurts?” Bilbo guessed. Bifur nodded enthusiastically. “Alright, I won’t make you speak anymore.” Bifur patted him on the head. “So how do you propose to teach me Iglishmek?”

The words sent Bifur into a teaching frenzy. He would point at something, Bilbo would say aloud and then he would sign it. Once Bilbo understood the sign, Bifur would have him sign it back to him. This continued for several hours. By the end of it Bilbo had a headache, but he could at least ask Bifur how his day had been and had he seen the blue bird that flew over Thorin’s head and pooped in Dwalin’s beard. Bifur had been extremely pleased once Bilbo had been able to sign the sentence entirely on his own.

“Oi, Bifur, Bilbo,” Bofur called up. Bilbo’s hand strayed to the pile of rocks beside him but Bifur snatched caught it in his own. He shook his head at Bilbo’s questioning look. “Ya two still up there?” Bifur shouted something down to Bofur that made his cousin laugh. “Aye? Well, Thorin says ya two need ta come down now.”

“Why?” Bilbo shouted back. “I like being up here.”

“We’ve arrived at Gandalf’s friend’s house,” Bofur said. “The one who won’t han’ us by meat hooks.” Bilbo looked to Bifur incredulously.

‘Long story,’ Bifur signed to him. ‘Don’t ask.’

“Why do we have to come down?” Bilbo asked Bofur. “Can’t we just stay up here?”

“Gandalf says we all have ta be there,” Bofur answered. Bilbo leaned over the side to the engineer waving at him. “Apparently this fella doesn’t trust Dwarves very much.”

‘We go,’ Bifur signed. ‘Trouble if not.’ Bilbo sighed in resignation.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m taking some rocks with me.” Bifur roared with laughter as Bilbo gathered some rocks and stuffed them in his pockets. Together they trotted through the rafters and scurried down the walls. The rest of the crew had gathered by the time they reached the floor. Dwlain wrapped his arms around Bilbo the moment his feet touched the floor, pulling him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, _pundurith_ ,” Dwalin muttered. “I won’t do that again.” Bilbo looked over Dwalin’s shoulder at Nori who could only shrug. Dwalin released Bilbo and stepped back.

“I want you all to be on your best behavior,” Gandalf said, sweeping into the cargo bay. “Beorn is not overly fond of Dwarves and he may remember the last time I visited.” Several of the Dwarves groaned, shaking their heads. “That was not my fault that time. It was entirely the Southerner’s. Now, best behavior.” Gandalf gave each Dwarf a speculative look and Bilbo an appraising one. “Let us go, then.”

Gandalf led the Dwarves to the door of the cargo bay and opened it. Leaning sideways, Bilbo watched eagerly as the door swung open. He didn’t pay any attention to the bear of a man standing on the other side or the dogs that stood on their hind legs. He didn’t care for the large bees. The adorable ponies remained forgotten. He just wanted to see the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Pundurith' means 'the cat that is young' or 'kitten'. I think I heard it somewhere else, but I don't remember. Anyway, now I have to go write my paper for sociology class. It's all about how because I'm white, straight, and 20 years old I have more privileges than other people. If you don't want to be told that because you're white you're racist (no matter what), then don't take sociology. I hate this class so much. Wish me luck that I don't kill the professor.


	26. Coddling and Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late and rather short chapter. :/ I had a busy weekend of two seven and a half hour shifts, so I was too exhausted to continue on with what I had written on Friday. I decided not to add any more scenes onto this chapter because I couldn't think of anything and I didn't suddenly want to skip ahead a few days in the same chapter.  
> Alright, Castor has an idea for a story but she's not so sure about it. So she asked me to ask what you guys think about it. "Everyone survives BOFA. Dwarves are greedy by nature. Thorin learns that Bilbo is part Harfoot, a race of Hobbits that once lived side by side with Dwarves. In a fit of gold sickness, he decides to make Bilbo to stay in Erebor using drastic (and forceful) measures.  
> Also, I got my sociology paper written! I even my kept my tongue civil. ^^

**Coddling and Curiosity**

The perfect Dwarvish pregnancy lasted one hundred and sixty weeks. A good one, at least one hundred and forty weeks. Dis' pregnancy with Kili had only lasted an unhealthy one hundred and two weeks, leading to complications after birth. Oin had shaken his head and sent the dangerously premature babe to a stasis pod. They would try and recreate the conditions of the mother's womb, he had said, if they were lucky then Kili would continue to develop as he should have. And develop Kili did.

At one hundred and two weeks his lungs had barely finished developing. The stasis pod had allowed him to finish, helping the babe breathe during the process. Nutrition had been pumped through tubes into Kili's body for several days. Fili could still remember the first day he had seen his baby brother in the pod. Kili had been so small, able to fit in Thorin's hand, as he lay there twitching in his sleep. When Dis had got the first chance to hold Kili she had been ecstatic. Fili, not so much. He couldn't see what was so great about the babe. He had heard Oin say Kili had a very low chance of survival, an even lesser chance of living a normal life he did. As if once wasn't enough, Kili proved him wrong thrice. He survived the birth, the development, and went on to live a relatively normal life.

Fili had been the first one to see the problems. At seventy-two months, when Kili should have started speaking, he had been silent. Not a single word had left his lips. Dis had been fine with it, saying each Dwarf developed differently. At seventy-five months, though, she had begun to grow worried. She had consulted Oin who had shaken his head in worry. There was a chance, he had said, that Kili would never speak. The words had haunted Fili's dreams. Being five years older than his brother, he had taken it upon himself to fix the problem. Every day he had seen his mother try to teach Kili words. His younger brother had looked around, as though lost in the world of meaningless sounds. Always his eyes had fallen on Fili.

The idea first came to Fili when he watched his uncle converse with another Dwarf in Iglishmek. The language was easy enough for a Dwarf to learn, easier than Khuzdul even. Fili could remember how Kili used his hands to convey any messages for someone. So during the next few months he had watched his brother and learned what each sign meant. Slowly, they began to form their own sign language to use. After that had come the actual spoken language. Fili had noticed how Kili had been able to say only certain sounds and not others. He used these to his advantage, inventing words using only these sounds to accompany the signs between him and his brother.

Dis had been worried about the language at first. She had thought Kili might never learn proper Khuzdul if Fili continued to teach him in this way. But when she had tried to remove him, Kili had thrown such a fit that she had no choice. Oin, when consulted, had said it was best to leave the brothers alone. Kili was learning in his own way with Fili's help. Fili had worked hard with his brother throughout the years as they formed the language together. He could still remember the morning with pride when Kili had walked into the kitchen and bid both his mother and uncle good morning. The expressions on their faces had been priceless. Dis had broken down into tears and Uncle Thorin had grabbed Kili under the armpits, throwing him up into the air and laughing. Kili had laughed with him all that day. Never once had he thought about what it was he was laughing at. Standing back in the shadows, Fili had watched his younger brother laugh. He had liked seeing this side of Kili more than anything else. His mind was made up.

He was his brother's keeper.

Fili sat back against the wall, one leg hiked up on the bed while the other foot sat flat on the floor. He had managed to prop one elbow on his higher knee. The other arm hung painfully from his cuffed wrists. There was nothing he could do it about it, though. Not unless he wanted to be tasered and locked away again. Agent Smith sat across from him on a worn stool with a manila folder. A new day found the Man dressed once more impeccably. He hadn't made the decision yet to forgo the tie and jacket.

"So, Fili Durin," Agent Smith said. Fili looked up from where he had been picking at his thumbnail. The agent's eyes were trained on the folder in his hands. "It says here you're the main pilot of the ship."

"That's right," Fili said.

"I suppose your uncle taught you," Agent Smith said, looking up from the folder. Fili lowered his leg to the floor and sat back against the wall. "Just like Kili."

"Aye," Fili said. Agent Smith raised an eyebrow. The Dwarf and Man stared at each other for several long moments before the silence was broken.

"Is there nothing more you want to add?" Agent Smith asked.

"You're the one asking the questions," Fili said. Agent Smith's eyes narrowed at that.

"Fili, you're in enough trouble as it is," the Man said. "It is in both our best interests if you would cooperate."

"Why? What else can you do to me? You've already arrested me, taken me from my brother and friends, and stole our Hobbit." Agent Smith sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fili smirked in triumph.

"For the last time, he is not your Hobbit. And maybe it would interest you to know that today is the last day you will be in this prison." Fili's smirk fell at that and he sat up straighter. "You, Kili, and Ori are being transferred to the juvenile detention center at the end of the day."

" _What_?" Fili said in disbelief. "But what about the trial? Don't we have to stay for that?"

"Not necessarily," Agent Smith said. "You are all still very young. The Government doesn't think it necessary for you to be there for the trial." Fili slumped back against the wall. This was bad. This was very, very bad. "Now, if you cooperate I can make the process go a lot easier for you. If not, then it could be more painful than you want it to be." Fili swallowed hard, thinking through his options fast.

"I'm the main pilot of  _the Arkenstone_ ," he finally said. "Been flying for five years. I first met Bilbo when Bofur and Nori were showing him around." Agent Smith sat up, watching the Dwarf in interest. "Never been in trouble before this."

"And in all your time of knowing Bilbo," the agent said. "Did you ever notice anything strange about his behavior?" Fili had to think through the question before answering. There were a lot of things about Bilbo he didn't understand: the way he built nests when he slept, how he crinkled his nose and he wiggled his ears when he thought something was secretly funny, or even how he would consistently pull parts out of the engine when Thorin annoyed him too much for the day.

"There was one thing," Fili eventually said.

"Yes?"

"The suns." The words cause Agent Smith to frown in confusion. Fili sat back against the wall, preparing for a long explanation. "This is actually part of the story we've been telling you, if you're interested."

"I am," Agent Smith said.

"Alright, where did Bombur leave off?"

"You had just landed on Beorn's moon."

"Right, so we landed there just shy of running out of fuel. Beorn wasn't exactly happy at first. He doesn't like Dwarves . . ."

O.o.O

Beorn was  _huge_. Thorin hadn't quite believed Gandalf when he had said his friend was a skinchanger. Then again, he had never met as skinchanger before. The race was said to have died out years ago when the Orcs raided their System. This . . . man was certainly not extinct. He had to be taller than six feet, tall enough for Bilbo to run between his legs and not have to duck. He had allowed his beard to grow out of control, tracing along his jawline. His cold, black eyes watched the crew of  _the Arkenstone_  carefully.

"Gandalf," Beorn finally said in a deep, gravelly voice. Thorin swallowed hard. "What are you doing here?"

"We have come for rest," Gandalf told his friend. "Food, water, supplies. I was hoping you would grace us with your hospitality."

"I don't like Dwarves," Beorn said. Kili shifted uncomfortably when the skinchanger didn't move his gaze from the crew. "They are greedy folk, taking what they want and leaving nothing for anyone else." Thorin opened his mouth to argue but Gandalf stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, well," Gandalf said. "These Dwarves are different." Beorn's gaze finally shifted to him, turning curious. "They have something with them you might find interest in." Thorin turned to glare at the wizard.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in a soft voice. Gandalf ignored him. Using his staff, he tapped Bilbo on the hip. The Hobbit jumped, distracted from looking at the sky. He looked at Gandalf in confusion then Beorn. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"A Halfling," Beorn said breathlessly. His long legs carried him forward and he knelt down to be level with Bilbo. The Hobbit took a step back as the skinchanger laid a great hand on his head. "It has been many years since I have seen a little bunny."

"Oi!" Bofur shouted. Gandalf clocked him on the head with his staff and the Dwarf yelped. Beorn didn't seem to have heard him, though. His entire attention had been focused on Bilbo.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you wish," Beorn told Gandalf. "You and the Dwarves, as long as the Hobbit stays with me." Thorin opened his mouth to argue with the skinchanger but Gandalf knocked him on the head next. Rubbing his skull, he glared at the wizard. Bilbo looked around at the Dwarves for help. The crew shifted nervously, unsure of what to do.

"Thank you, Beorn," Gandalf said. The skinchanger hooked his hands under Bilbo's armpits and stood, lifting the Hobbit to his shoulder. There Bilbo swayed back and forth dangerously. He made a strange sound Thorin had never heard before: a mix between a squeal and a whine. Beside Nori, Dori stiffened.

"Come, dinner is almost ready," Beorn said. He turned away, Bilbo swaying on his shoulder, and made his way back to his house. Gandalf walked with him, murmuring in a soft voice to his friend.

"Did you hear the sound Bilbo made," Dori said once the skinchanger was out of earshot. "He doesn't want to be up there."

"Who would?" Bofur said, still nursing his aching head.

"I've never heard him make that sound before," Ori piped up.

"I have," Kili said. He shrugged when the rest of the crew turned to him. "He made it once when Oin was looking over his ear."

"It's a common sound among the Hobbits," Dori explained. "It means they don't like something that is happening. It's a way for them to relay their displeasure with something."

"What about when they huff?" Nori asked. "I've heard him make that sound before too."

"That depends on the situation. It could be they are either annoyed or they find something funny."

"What about screamin'?" Dwalin asked. Dori turned to him in confusion and he scratched his beard nervously. "When we took him to Oin the first two times, he screamed somethin' awful."

"That kind of scream means 'no'," Dori said. "It's meant to scare someone away or bring help to them." Thorin looked to Dwalin, his stomach dropping. No wonder Bilbo had been mad at them after the surgery incident.

"Do they make these sounds often?" Balin asked Dori.

"Occasionally," Dori said. "Mostly they're linked in with words as Hobbits speak. You have to be trained to hear what they're doing underneath their words." The Dwarves blinked in surprise, letting the words sink in.

"You Dwarves had better come in for dinner." Gandalf's words caused the crew to turn to him. The wizard stood in the doorway, leaning on his staff. "The food will get cold, otherwise." The crew turned as one to look at Thorin for instruction.

"Nori, Bofur," Thorin said. "Keep an eye on Bilbo. Try and get him away from Beorn if you can."

"But Beorn said," Kili began, Thorin cutting him off.

"I do not trust the skinchanger," Thorin snapped at nephew. Kili shrank back and Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bilbo is a part of our crew now. We need to treat him as such."

"Alright, laddie," Balin said before anyone else could speak. "We'll see what we can do." The rest of the crew nodded in agreement. They began to make their way across the field to Beorn's house. Thorin stopped Bofur with a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.

"Thorin?" Bofur said in confusion.

"I need you to make a tracker," Thorin told his engineer. "For Bilbo. Is there any way you could convert one of the translators into an intercom system?"

"Aye, I could do that," Bofur said. "I'd need ta make a mouth piece fer Bilbo, but I think I can get that done." Thorin nodded his thanks. "But ya better ask Bilbo fer permission this time before ya inject him with any trackers. He didn't take kindly ta the surgery."

"I noticed," Thorin said, and Bofur snickered at him. "We better get inside before Gandalf hits us again." Bofur pulled a face, rubbing his head. Together the two Dwarves made their way into Beorn's house for dinner.

Dinner consisted of bread soaked in honey, various sweet fruits, and honey-laced milk. Thorin had never tasted something so sweet in all his life. It didn't sit well with his stomach. Bilbo seemed to be enjoying himself, though. Once the Hobbit had recovered from the nasty shock of Beorn's height, he laughed and joked around with the skinchanger. Thorin listened to all the words, straining his ears for the sounds Dori had mentioned. This time around he heard them. Bilbo would speak with a chortle when he thought something someone said was funny. He huffed and sighed in contentment when Beorn asked him about the food. Beorn had only touched Bilbo's ears once. It had led to a strange clicking and  _scree_  sound from Bilbo accompanied with an annoyed expression. The skinchanger hadn't done it again.

Great dogs walking on their hind legs cleared the dinner dishes away. Sheep took any leftover food to be either stored or fed to the pigs outside. Thorin watched them nervously. Never before had he seen animals act this way. It wasn't natural.

"That was a dangerous pass for you to take, Gandalf." Thorin looked up at Beorn's words. "The Misty Mountains are infested with Goblins."

"And more, we learned," Gandalf said. Beorn narrowed his eyes at him and the wizard pressed on. "It seems the Misty Mountains are crawling with medical mites and other experiments." Beorn shifted in his chair. He stared at the crew and Gandalf for several long minutes before his eyes fell on Bilbo. The Hobbit looked up at him curiously.

"That moon you landed on," the skinchanger finally said. "It was an experimental site of the Government. They attempted to recreate the ideas of a miner." Thorin looked to Bofur who swallowed hard. "Bio ships, medical mites, intelligent animals . . . they attempted many things on that moon. None of them ever worked."

"Intelligent animals," Bilbo repeated. He looked to a dog walking through the kitchen. The dog paused, waving at the Hobbit before it moved on.

"I rescued what animals I could when the facility was shut down," Beorn said. "I had been hired to be their caretaker."

"Why was the facility shut down?" Fili asked in interest. Beorn raised his head to look at him. The Dwarf shifted uncomfortably.

"Someone made a mistake in the medical mites' lab," the skinchanger said. "The mites escaped from their containment and infected the entire planet. Everyone on that moon was taken away by the Government and locked up. Many are still alive and well, even when hundreds of years have passed."

Hundreds of years?" Kili repeated.

"But we were on that mountain," Ori said in a quivering voice. "A-And Bofur said we're infected too."

"Is there no way to kill the mites?" Thorin asked. Beorn cocked his head, as if thinking.

"The Government has found no way," he said. "The medical mites were bred to repair damaged cells but have nothing to stop them once they are finished. They will continue to kill aging cells and replace them until you should have been dead many years ago."

"Wh-What about rings?" Bilbo asked. He flushed under Beorn's confused expression. "I-I found a ring on the Misty Mountains, but I don't know where it came from."

"What ring?" Gandalf said. Bilbo fished in his coat pocket, repaired dutifully by Dori, and pulled it out to show the simple ring to Gandalf. Thorin looked to Bofur who shrugged.

"I gave it back ta him," Bofur said in a soft voice. "I was all done with it." Thorin looked back to Bilbo just as Gandalf had finished examining the jewelry.

"There was no ring being made in the facility," Beorn said as Gandalf handed the ring back to Bilbo.

"What does it do?" Kili asked curiously. "Put it on, Bilbo." The Hobbit looked around himself at the eager stares before he shrugged and slipped the ring onto his middle finger. He vanished. Thorin shot out of his chair, yelling in surprised Khuzdul. His crew leapt out of their own seats. Their hands went for whatever weapons they had with them. Gandalf sat back in his chair and Beorn straightened up in his seat. Bilbo reappeared suddenly, pulling the ring off his finger.

"What happened?" Bilbo asked in confusion over the noise. It took several shouts from Gandalf for the Dwarves to fall quiet and retake their seats. Thorin glared at the wizard.

"You went invisible," Gandalf told Bilbo. The Hobbit's eyes grew wide and his mouth made an  _o_. "Bilbo, where did you find that ring?" Bilbo hesitated for a moment before Dwalin nodded at him. Thorin listened in interest as the Hobbit launched into his story of swapping riddles with Gollum and wandering around the Misty Mountains alone.

"And then I ran into Bofur, Nori, and Bifur," Bilbo finished. His ears still burned red from when Nori had started snickering about Bilbo pressing the red button.

"That is a very intriguing story," Gandalf told the Hobbit. Bilbo's flush grew all the way to the points of his ears. "I would keep that ring close if I were you."

"It's a good thin' he isn't," Bofur muttered under his breath. Nori snorted into his glass of milk, drawing a glare from Dori. Thorin kicked them both under the table. It wouldn't be the first time the two friends had gotten the crew kicked out of a town.

"But do not attempt to pull any tricks on us," Gandalf warned Bilbo, a twinkle in his eye. "I, personally, will be able to tell." Bilbo flushed, nodding hurriedly as he slipped the ring back into his pocket. "Now, if those are all your questions, I believe it is time for some rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of Castor's idea? I keep telling her it's good, but she says she doesn't actually know what she'd do with the story. Any ideas?  
> I got the idea for Kili from our cousin. He and his wife just had a daughter. She was born fifteen weeks early but is doing really well so far. We're keeping our fingers crossed for her!  
> Also, I should be getting the extended edition of DOS tomorrow! So I'm really excited about that.


	27. Ignorance and Insolence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad that I didn't post what I had written earlier. The idea for Bofur and Nori came to me while I was in class today and I started to realize that all the Dwarves' histories have mingled together.  
> Also, I have now seen the extended edition of the Desolation of Smaug! I must say, it brought a lot more to the movie than the theatrical version did. And seeing Beorn so nervous made me laugh.  
> Castor has recently brought it to my attention that Kili has the tendency of falling down stairs. It made me wonder how many times this happens in my story. So here's my request to anyone who's willing! Reread my story and tell me how many times . . .  
> a. Kili falls down a set of stairs (whether he's pushed or falls back in surprise).  
> b. Bofur hits Nori.  
> c. Bifur throws things (whether it be at something or someone *cough* Bofur *cough*).  
> I don't know. I might give a prize out to anyone who does it.

**Ignorance and Insolence**

Bofur didn’t like people who beat around the bush. It meant they had something to say they didn’t want to. And in his experience, it usually wasn’t very nice. Too many times of someone beating around the bush, and ending in insulting Bofur, led the Dwarf to speak his mind whenever he pleased. Some may have not deemed it proper but Bofur deemed it necessary. A true friend in life didn’t beat around the bush. A true friend in life didn’t hide secrets. A true friend didn’t lie. So when Bofur learned his true friend had kept secrets, lied to him, he decided to give him one chance to beg for forgiveness.

His friend didn’t take the chance for three whole days.

Bofur laid on his back under the engine, tinkering with loose parts and oiling the rusty ones. All of the Elves’ hard work on the engine had nearly been undone by the Goblins. Bofur was actually surprised the engine still ran. The wrench he held slipped from his grasp and struck him in the nose, Cursing, Bofur grabbed the injured appendage.

“You know,” a voice said, and Bofur froze. “Bif usually hits the engine with the wrench, not himself.” Bofur waited but no more words came. The presence didn’t leave, either. The two friends sat in silence. Finally, Bofur spoke.

“Did ya know?” he asked.

“Did I know what?” The legs Bofur could see knelt down beside his lower half. Sly fingers ran across the floor until they found a few loose screws.

“Did ya know about the facility on the Misty Mountains?” Bofur asked, and Nori hesitated. The fingers paused as they wrapped around a screw.

“No,” Nori finally said. “I didn’t know.” An uncomfortable silence fell between the two friends. Nori didn’t make any move to leave Bofur to his own devices. Grumbling to himself, Bofur grabbed the engine and used it to pull himself out from under it. Nori knelt over him with a weary expression on his face.

“Why did ya do it?” Bofur asked his longtime friend. Nori watched him for several long seconds. His eyes traveled over Bofur’s face, taking in every aspect of it.

“They knew about me,” Nori said. “I guess one of Dwalin’s reports about my thieving got into their hands. They approached me one day with pictures of Ori and Dori. They threatened to kill my brothers if I didn’t do what they said.”

“So ya came inta the mines and pretended ta be my friend?” Bofur asked. “Ya took all my ideas ta the government.”

“Bofur, you don’t understand,” Nori began. Bofur cut him off.

“Yer right, I don’t. Why didn’t ya just tell me what was happenin’?”

“Would you have believed me if I had told you?”

“Of course I would have,” Bofur said. Nori’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Maybe not at first, but if ya had brought me proof I might have.”

“And then what would you have done?” Nori asked.

“We could have told someone,” Bofur said. “Anyone.”

“What could have anyone else done?” Nori snapped. “The Government controls the people. Without Erebor, we Dwarves are helpless. My brothers would have been dead. What if you’d been in my position? Would you have let Bombur and Bifur die?” Bofur looked down at his hands, pondering the words.

“Aye,” he eventually said. “Yer probably right.”

“They didn’t hear much,” Nori said in a reassuring voice after a moment. “It took me years to learn anything about _the Eagles._ And the medical mites ended up being a complete disaster.” Bofur snorted at that. “I did stop, though.”

“When?” Bofur asked, looking up at Nori.

“After Dwalin threw himself down the mineshaft,” Nori told him. “I quit gathering information and started stalking him to make sure he didn’t do it again.”

“But ya kept comin’ back ta the mines ta talk ta me,” Bofur said. Nori gave him a pointed look. “But ya never asked anythin’ about my ideas again.” The realization dawned horribly on Bofur and he stared at his friend in shock.

“I hope this doesn’t change anything,” Nori said. “I really am sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if they hadn’t had Dori and Ori.”

“But then we would’ve never met,” Bofur reminded him. “I, fer one, am glad ya didn’t. Ya never would’ve convinced me and Bifur ta join Thorin’s crew. I’d still be workin’ down in those mines if it hadn’t been fer ya.” He shoved his friend’s shoulder and Nori chuckled under his breath. “So I guess I should be thankin’ ya. Those _Eagles_ never would’ve left the ground.” He gave Nori his very own special meaningful expression.

“Just for that pun I’m going to tell Bif you’ve been messing with the engine again.”

“But I haven’t!”

“Who’s he going to believe?”

“Ya dirty little thief.”

“Guilty as charged,” Nori said with a smirk. Bofur leapt at him, sending both of them tumbling out of the engine room and into the hall. Nori yelped as Bofur pulled him into a headlock. “Choking! Choking!”

O.o.O

Thorin examined the gun-like device in his hands. It reminded him of the piercing guns Nori had kept from his days as a tattoo artist. The needle at the end was wider, though. It had to be, to accommodate the trackers inside. Bofur had made several of them for Thorin. Each one was the size of a small bean.

_“Inject it inta his arm,” Bofur had said. “And ya should be good ta go.”_

Good to go. Thorin laughed to himself. For years Bilbo had worn a tracker forced upon him at birth without his own knowledge. He had seen the way Bilbo would rub the back of his neck. The Hobbit’s fingers would trace the knotted scar there, as if remembering. What would Bilbo say to another tracker? Would he think the Dwarves were treating him like a possession?

“Ah, Thorin, there you are.” Thorin whirled around, hiding the tracker gun behind his back. Gandalf stood behind him. The wizard’s eyes followed Thorin’s arms but he didn’t question him any further.

“Gandalf,” Thorin said in relief. “You were looking for me . . . again?”

“Yes, I was,” Gandalf said. He shifted his grip on his staff. “I came to tell you I am leaving now. Lady Galadriel has contacted me and told me to head for Dol Guldur. It would be wise for you to leave this planet tonight when I do. I cannot ensure Beorn will leave you be once I am gone.”

“I will tell the others,” Thorin said. Gandalf nodded firmly and made to leave, pausing at Thorin’s next words. “Do you know where Bilbo is?”

“Bilbo?” Gandalf repeated. He thought for a moment the nodded. “He is out in the garden again, watching the sun.”

“The sun?” Thorin said with a frown. “Why would he be watching the sun?” Gandalf looked down the ground, scuffing the floor with his staff, as he chuckled to himself. “What are you not telling us, wizard?” Gandalf looked up to him, a twinkle in his eye.

“There is no sun in the Shire System,” Gandalf explained. “The planets and minor moons there move through a gravitational field created by the gathering of stars in the very center of the system. Until this journey, Bilbo has never seen a sun a day in his life.” Thorin watched as the wizard chuckled to himself once more than continued on down the hall. The words sank in slowly.

_“I said if you hurt me my Mother would send guards to rescue me.”_

_“He’s a Fallohide from afar, child of the stars.”_

_“I told him I was a child of the stars and that my mother was the sun.”_

“There is no sun in the Shire System,” Thorin said softly to himself. Now it all made sense. He’d always taken Bilbo’s obsession for the suns as just another part of him. But it wasn’t. “Not an obsession, a wish.” Thorin chuckled, shaking his head. “Silly Hobbit.” Hurrying down the hall, he made his way through the kitchen and out into the garden.

Bilbo sat in the center of the small garden. He had opted out of sitting on a bench nearby, instead digging his toes into the black dirt beneath him. His arms wrapped around his legs, the Hobbit craned his neck to stare in wonder at the sky. Thorin could remember his grandfather wearing that same expression surrounded by gold. Bilbo didn’t seem to notice Thorin as the Dwarf stepped into the garden. Stuffing the tracker gun into his pocket, Thorin made his way to sit down beside Bilbo. The Hobbit’s head jerked sideways at the new movement.

“Oh, h-hello, Thorin,” he said, unwrapping his arms. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for you,” Thorin said.

“Humph,” Bilbo said, a noise Thorin had come to understand as meaning ‘oh?’ or ‘why?’ or even, in special circumstances ‘weird’.

“Gandalf told me where you were,” Thorin continued. Bilbo hummed this time, a note of annoyance in his voice. “He told me there are no suns in the Shire System.” Watching Bilbo out of the corner of his eye, Thorin saw the Hobbit huff in annoyance and rub his nose. “Was he speaking the truth?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said hotly. “We have six moons in our System that all circle a cluster of stars.”

“That is a small System,” Thorin commented. Bilbo’s eyes narrowed. “But please, continue.”

“I come from the Hobbiton moon,” Bilbo said. “It is a minor moon that circles the Westfarthing moon. The Westfarthing and Eastfarthing moons travel parallel with each along the same track. The Southfarthing and Northfarthing moons travel on either side of both moons on separate paths.”

“And what of the sixth moon?” Thorin asked. Bilbo hesitated, cuffing his toe into the dirt, before he answered.

“That’s the Barrow Downs,” the Hobbit said softly. “We don’t talk about that moon very often.” His fingers ran up his neck to trail against the scar. Thorin cleared his throat, catching the Hobbit’s attention.

“The Khazad System,” Thorin said. “Is not really a system at all. A better definition would be a galaxy.”

“Then why do you call it a system?” Bilbo asked in confusion. Leaning back on his hands, Thorin sighed as he thought through the explanation. He opted for the story Balin used to tell his young students.

“When the Men left their system and came to ours,” Thorin said. “They wanted to give a finite definition to everything they say. The attempted to differentiate between a planet and a moon in our systems. To us, they are the same thing. The words are synonymous for each other, meaning a habitable rock floating around a central object.”

“Erebor,” Bilbo said, catching Thorin’s attention. “Balin called it a moon, but I’ve heard the rest of you call it a planet instead.”

“Exactly. Where the Men come from they have one habitable planet they called ‘Earth’ and several moons. They sought to define our systems as they had theirs. None of it worked, though, and they were forced to conform to our ways. The Men chose to call the Khazad System a system due to its movement centered on Erebor.”

“There’s no sun or stars in the center?” Bilbo asked.

“In a way there is,” Thorin told him. “Seven suns circle Erebor, keeping it in an everlasting rotation.”

“ _Seven_?”

“Aye, and at all times there is at least one sun in the sky, if not more. Durin’s Day is the only day of the year when all seven suns’ speeds bring them into the sky at once. You see, they travel on separate tracks, just like your Farthings. Each moves at their own speeds.”

“What about the other moons?” Bilbo asked eagerly. “Do they have seven suns as well?”

“No,” Thorin said, smiling at the way Bilbo’s face fell. He leaned forward to drag his finger through the dirt. “We have several minor systems in the Khazad System: the Iron Hills, the Blue Mountains, the Misty Mountains, the Ettenmoors, and more. Now, each of these minor systems have at least one sun within them. The Blue Mountains, where we on the crew are from, has four suns traveling through them. On the day of the Summer Solstice the four suns come together in the center of the sky, making it the brightest day of the year. The Misty Mountains, though, has no suns at all.”

“Then how do they stay in orbit?” Bilbo asked.

“They travel through the gravitational field of other suns,” Thorin explained. “Didn’t Dori teach you any of this?”

“Maybe,” Bilbo admitted, blushing. “I may have not been listening very much.” Thorin chuckled at that. Bilbo’s face lit up, and he did something Thorin had never seen before. His nose wrinkled and his ears twitched back and forth. The actions sent Thorin into a roaring laughter that brought a confused expression from Bilbo.

“What are you laughing at?” Bilbo demanded. When Thorin didn’t immediately stop, he jabbed the Dwarf in the side. “Blast you Dwarves and your secrecy. Stop laughing at me.” Thorin managed to bring his laughing down to gasps. At the sight of Bilbo’s furious expression he lost it, collapsing into laughter again. Bilbo leapt at him, catching him by surprise. Both beings were sent tumbling to the ground.

“Stop it! Blast it! Stop laughing at me-oh.” Thorin sat up, wiping his tears away, to see what had stopped Bilbo. The Hobbit stared at a small device on the ground. The tracker gun had slipped from Thorin’s pocket in their tussle.

“Dammit,” Thorin swore softly. He swiped up the gun and made to shove it back into his pocket. Bilbo’s expression stopped him, though. The Hobbit stared at him as though he had been betrayed. “Bilbo,” Thorin sighed.

“What is that?” Bilbo asked.

“Bofur made it,” Thorin said.

“Alright, but what is it?” Bilbo said. Thorin looked down at the gun, wondering how to explain the situation. “I’m fifty years old, Thorin, I’m not a child anymore.”

“It is a tracker gun,” Thorin said. “Bofur made it to inject trackers.”

“Into me?” Bilbo guessed. Thorin nodded slowly and the Hobbit sat back on his heels. “Why? Don’t you trust me not to run off?”

“It’s not that, Bilbo.”

“Then what is it? None of the rest of the crew have trackers. Why should I have to get one?”

“Because I worry about you,” Thorin snapped. Bilbo blinked in surprise. Inhaling deeply, Thorin tried to calm down. “We almost lost you in the Misty Mountains. With a tracker, we would not have to worry anymore.” Bilbo looked doubtful at this. “I will tell you what, Bofur has made more than one tracker. I will allow you to inject one into my arm first, and then I will inject you.” He offered the device out for Bilbo. The Hobbit looked between it and him before wrapping his small fingers around the handle.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice, Bilbo.”

“But you could just pin me down and stab me with this thing anyway.” Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s wrist as the Hobbit brandished the tracker gun. He didn’t feel like being stabbed at the moment.

“I am sorry for the surgery,” Bilbo,” Thorin told Bilbo. “I did what I thought was best for you, but clearly I only hurt you more. I promise next time I will listen to you.” Bilbo glared at him until Thorin released his wrist.

“How does this thing work?” Bilbo asked hotly, waving the gun around once more. Thorin grabbed his wrist before the gun stabbed him in the thigh.

“You jab the needle end into someone’s arm,” Thorin explained, pointing out the wide needle. “Once that is done then you pull the trigger. The injection process should only take a moment or two.”

“Alright,” Bilbo said. He looked to Thorin, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Let’s see if I can’t kill you.” For a moment, Thorin seriously worried for his life. Rolling up his sleeve, he bared his arm for the Hobbit. Bilbo aligned the tracker gun. He looked to Thorin for approval.

“Now press the needle into my arm,” Thorin ordered, wincing when Bilbo did as he said. He hadn’t expected the piercing pain that came. “And pull the trigger,” he said through gritted teeth. If the gun hadn’t been lodged in his arm, Thorin would have strangled the Hobbit for struggling with the device. It couldn’t be that hard. Finally, Bilbo managed to get the hang of the device and pulled the trigger. Thorin had to hold back the shout of pain at the strange and painful sensation. Bilbo pulled the gun back, watching as Thorin clutched his arm.

“Are you okay?” Bilbo asked hesitantly. Holding back his yells, Thorin nodded stiffly. “Did it hurt?” Straightening up, Thorin tried to put a brave face on.

“Only a bit,” he said. He opened his hand for the gun and Bilbo hesitated. Several minutes before he handed the device over. Thorin waited patiently for him to roll his own sleeve up. It would be better to move at Bilbo’s own terms this time around. Eventually, the Hobbit’s pale skin was prepared for the tracker.

“Now, take a deep breath in and try not to move,” Thorin said as he took Bilbo’s arm in a strong grip. Bilbo nodded stiffly, closing his eyes. Taking a steadying breath, Thorin jabbed the tracker gun into the Hobbit’s arm and injected the tracker. Bilbo squealed in pained alarm and attempted to jerk his arm back. Thorin held it in a strong grip, though. He drew the gun back and tossed it aside just in the nick of time. Bilbo leapt at Thorin, wrapping his small fingers around the Dwarf’s throat.

“You lied to me!” Bilbo screeched in fury, scrabbling at Thorin’s skin. Thorin laughed at the Hobbit’s efforts. He couldn’t blame him. The tracker had hurt more than even Thorin had thought it would. “I ought to kill you!”

“Then your efforts will be in vain, Master Baggins,” Thorin laughed, adding to Bilbo’s fury. “You would do better with your toothpick of a weapon.”

“Then let me go get it,” Bilbo hissed. He made to get up but Thorin wrapped his arms around his waist, dragging the Hobbit back down to the ground.

“Not yet,” Thorin said. “I have more.” Bilbo twisted in his grip to glare at him.

“What? Are you going to give me another tracker? Maybe this time you should inject it into my butt like they do with shots in the hospital.”

“Perhaps I should have done that in the first place,” Thorin suggested, chuckling at Bilbo’s venomous expression. “Treat you as the child you are acting like.”

“I’d like to see you get shot in the arm and not act like a child.”

“I already did.”

“. . . Shut up,” Bilbo spat, and Thorin laughed again. He could see the fury in Bilbo’s face calming down. The Hobbit’s nose had wrinkled once more and his ears were just barely twitching. “Shut _up_! Stop laughing at me!” Thorin couldn’t help it. Just the sight of Bilbo’s pointed ears twitching like a rabbit’s made him laugh. “Stop it right now or I’m going to get my sword.”

“Calm down, Master Baggins,” Thorin said. Flipping over, he managed to pin Bilbo under himself. Bilbo struggled under him and glared up at Thorin. “Bofur fixed one of the translators to act as a transmitter as well. This way we will be able to remain in touch with you if we are separated. If I let you up will you attack me again?”

“No,” Bilbo said hotly. Thorin didn’t move from his seat on the Hobbit’s hips. Bilbo groaned, hitting his head against the ground. “I said no. I promise I won’t attack you again.”

“I will hold you to that promise,” Thorin said. Rolling sideways, Thorin allowed the Hobbit to sit back up. Bilbo straightened his overcoat as best as he could with a glare aimed at Bilbo.

“Does Bofur have the translator?” Bilbo asked.

“No, he gave it to me,” Thorin said. He fished around in his pocket and found it, offering the new device out for Bilbo to inspect.

“There’s microphone,” Bilbo finally said, looking up at Thorin. “Am I just supposed to listen to what you say and hope you know what I’m thinking?”

“Bofur made one,” Thorin said. He drew a length of tan leather from his pocket next. Bilbo took it and inspected it as well. “He made this to blend into your skin. You just speak into your wrist and the microphone will pick up your words.”

“Sounds safe enough,” Bilbo said. He swapped out the translator in his right ear for the new one. “Help me with the mic?” he asked Thorin, offering his right wrist out. Thorin took the leather strap and wrapped it around Bilbo’s wrist. Upon meeting, the ends melted together. “Amazing,” Bilbo breathed, examining the microphone. “You should give Bofur a raise.”

“I will have to think about it,” Thorin said. “Now, I need to find the rest of the crew and tell them we are leaving by the end of the day.”

“But we just got here,” Bilbo argued.

“And Gandalf is leaving,” Thorin said as he stood. “He has suggested we leave so we do not anger Beorn further. Pack your things, Master Baggins, and say your farewells.” Bilbo nodded slowly. Thorin ruffled his hair before leaving the Hobbit alone in the garden.

Child of the stars, indeed.

O.o.O

Gandalf took _Gwahir_ before the day was through. He left instructions for Thorin to take the pass through Mirkwood but under no circumstance enter the Lonely Mountain without him. Thorin promised the wizard he would do no such thing. Satisfied, Gandalf left the Dwarves and Bilbo in Beorn’s care. Beorn’s mood turned sour in the last few hours of their stay. He seemed to want to spend all his time with Bilbo, speaking with the Hobbit at every chance. It took a lot of convincing on both Balin and Dori’s part that Bilbo could not stay with Beorn. He needed to accompany the Dwarves to Erebor.

Finally, the time had come. The Dwarves gathered up everything Beorn had been willing to part with. Bilbo said his teary-eyed farewell to Beorn who nuzzled his hair then followed Ori onto the ship.

“Take us out of the world,” Thorin told Fili in the cockpit. Firing up the engines, Fili took a hold of the controls. They eased off the planet’s surface, leaving Beorn’s home behind on their continued voyage toward the Lonely Mountain.

O.o.O

“Cob, find Attercop, tell him . . . they’re on the move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone willing to count? If you are, let me know! ;)  
> I also got the idea of the Shire System when I was thinking about how Bilbo kept calling himself a child of the stars. Then it dawned on me, there is no sun in the Shire System. Bilbo's only ever heard of it.  
> As I continue planning for the upcoming sequels, I have found myself in a rut. :/ The Hobbits built their own small ships to travel from one Farthing to the next, but I don't know what kind of name to give the line. Any ideas?


	28. Habits and Humor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UPDATE: 11-09-2014*  
> I didn't like how the original chapter turned out, so I rewrote it. It has now turned into a two-three chapter story. Let me know what you think!

**Habits and Humor**

“Now,” Agent Smith said, smoothing his tie down. “Around what time would you say you left Beorn’s planet?” Fili had to think through the question before answering. Every event after their leaving the hospitality of Beorn had blended together. He could barely tell the time difference between when they had escaped Mirkwood and when they had won the Battle of the Five Armies.

“Late September by the Khazad System Reckoning,” Fili finally guessed. Agent Smith offered him a sandwich and he accepted it gratefully. They had been talking for two straight hours, Fili trying to buy as much time as he could. HE wanted to see just how far through the story he could get before Agent Smith left.

“And Gandalf sent you on a path toward Mirkwood?” Agent Smith asked. Fili nodded as he took a bite from the sandwich. Roast beef with pepper jack cheese and lettuce. “Which path was this?”

“The Elven Path,” Fili said through the sandwhich before swallowing. “Sorry. Gandalf sent us on the Elven Path. The Gate is about a two day trip from Beorn’s planet. Once we got on it, it was a straight journey past Mirkwood and onto Erebor. We could have landed on Mirkwood if we wanted to . . . and if Thranduil had let us.”

“How long did your journey take through the Elven Path?” Agent Smith asked.

“That,” Fili said. “Is a very good question. None of us actually remember. About two and a half days down the Path we hit this ion cloud.”

“Sorry, but what ion cloud? It’s scientifically impossible for an ion cloud to exist.”

“Yeah, I know. But I never said Kili was smart. He was the one who named it.”

“Alright,” Agent Smith said slowly. Fili shoved the last piece of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed. “What was this . . . ion cloud, then?”

“We don’t actually know,” Fili admitted. “It just sort of popped up and started screwing with our systems . . .”

O.o.O

“I’m telling you,” Kili said. “If you’d just talk to Thorin maybe he’d lesson.”

“I really don’t think he would,” Fili disagreed, examining a monitor. “Thorin has a thick skull. Ma says it all the time.” Spinning the captain’s seat around, he checked another screen.

“Yeah, but if you would just _try_ ,” Kili said. Fili slammed a hand against the radar’s monitor. “Hey, don’t break it,” Kili warned. “Thorin’ll make you buy a new one.”

“Something’s messing with the monitors,” Fili said. He waved blindly over his shoulder. “Check the co-pilot’s for me, would you?” Kili grumbled but Fili had to guess his brother had did what he guessed. Grabbing the intercom handheld to the engine, Fili spoke into it. “Bofur shut down the engine. Keep life support on.”

“Roger that,” Bofur’s voice came through tinny. “Bif, shut her down!” Clangs and screeches echoed down the hall from the engine room. Fili slammed his fist against the monitor again in his frustration but they stayed the same way: riddled with dancing dots and fizzing every few seconds.

“The monitors on this side aren’t working,” Kili said from the other side of the cockpit. “They’ve all got . . . dancing ants. What’s going on?”

“No idea,” Fili said, turning his chair around. Fili sat in the copilot’s seat, his feet propped up on the console. “Get your feet down.”

“But you do it all the time.”

“Yeah, because I’m allowed to.”

“And I’m not?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m senior pilot.”

“Who told you that?”

“Thorin,” Fili said with a smug smile. “Besides, I’m eight years older than you.” Kili scoffed at that before turning his attention to the windshield. Fili followed his gaze, frowning at what he saw. Thousands of glittering sparks floated past them through the vacant space. Occasionally they would hit the ship and send up tiny sparks that fizzled and died.

“Those aren’t stars,” Fili said. Kili stood and made his way to stand at the top of the staircase.

“They’re like ions,” he said. “It’s an ion cloud.” He turned to look at Fili, pure glee on his face. “Don’t you think?” Fili opened his mouth to respond only to be interrupted by a shout.

“Fili!” Thorin’s roared, storming into the cockpit. Kili gave a surprised yelp and tumbled backward down the staircase. Thorin barley spared him a worried glance before he rounded on his eldest nephew. “Fili, why has the engine stopped?”

“I told Bofur to do it,” Fili said calmly. Thorin exhaled hard through his nose and crossed his arms. “The monitors are on the fritz, we’re flying blind out here.”

“I’m okay, I’m alive,” Kili called up from the lower level. “Actually, no I’m not.”

“Gloin replaced the frayed plugs back on Bree,” Thorin said. “I saw him.”

“Aye,” Fili agreed. “But I don’t think it’s the plugs this time. Come here and look at this.” He beckoned his uncle over, showing him the several monitors. “The frequencies, the radars, the heat sensors . . . something’s tampering with them.”

“What do you think it is?” Thorin asked.

“You know what?” Kili said. “I don’t think my spine’s supposed to bend like this.”

“Kili called them ions,” Fili said, nodding to the windshield. Thorin straightened up and turned his attention to the floating sparks. “I’ve no idea what they actually are.”

“Are they causing any damage to the engine?”

“None we can see so far.”

“I could use some help down here.”

“Could you fly through this . . . ion cloud?”

“We’d be flying blind.”

“I think I’ve cut the blood off to my legs.”

“Try your best,” Thorin ordered his nephew. “If you cannot see, send Dwalin or Gloin out in an _Eagle_ to help you.”

“Alright, Thorin,” Fili said.

“Woohoo, tingly!”

“And have Ori bring you a map of this system,” Thorin added. “You have never flown in this are before. I do not want my ship crashed. She crashes, it is your fault.”

“Understood,” Fili said with a two finger salute. Thorin gave him a stern nod then left. Leaning over, Fili saw his brother folded in half on the floor of the lower levels. Kili’s knees just barely brushed his nose. “You know, I’m starting to think you do this on purpose.”

“Do what?” Kili asked.

“Fall down the stairs,” Fili told him. His brother winked at him before easily flipping himself to his feet. “You’ll hurt yourself one of these days.

“But it’s so much fun,” Kili said. “Besides, it’s practically my trademark.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

“What is that supposed to mean.”

“You fall down nearly every staircase you’re by.”

“That’s no true!”

“Do I really need to remind you of the first day on this ship?”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

“Fili, stop.”

“A door slammed.”

“I mean it.”

“A maid screamed.”

“I’m warning you.”

“And somewhere on a lonely ship, a stupid Dwarf fell down a set of stairs.”

“Now you’re asking for it!”

O.o.O

“Bofur, Thorin shouted down the hall. The engineer stuck his head out of the engine room in answer. “Get the engine running again. Run it soft, Fili and Kili are flying blind.”

“Aye, Thorin,” Bofur said, withdrawing his head. “Bif, we’ve got to get her goin’ again . . . what do ya mean this is my fault? Thorin’s the one who told me ta do it.”

Thorin left the two engineers to work. He and the rest of the crew had learned early on not to get into the cousins’ fights and arguments. More blood than necessary was usually spilt. Stomping down the stairs, Thorin found Balin in the dining area. His first mate glanced up from his book in interest, stirring the tea bag in his tea cup.

“Is everything alright up there?” Balin asked.

“We have reached an ion cloud,” Thorin said. At Balin’s raised eyebrows, he huffed in answer. “Kili’s name.”

“Ah,” Balin said before returning to his book. “There is still hot water in the tea pot if you wanted to brew yourself a cup.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said, and Balin hummed. Walking to the small kitchen, he grabbed a mug and a tea bag. He poured hot water into the mug before dunking the tea bag in. Upon turning around, he found Balin watching him. “What is it?”

“Have you seen Bilbo anywhere?” Balin asked. Thorin had to think for a moment. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen the Hobbit all day.

“Is he not on his roost?” Thorin asked.

“No,” Balin said. “Nori checked earlier.”

“Has Dwalin left his room since breakfast?”

“No.”

“Then Bilbo is most likely taking a nap in Dwalin’s room,” Thorin said as he made his way to sit across from Balin at the dining table. “Dwalin never leaves Bilbo’s side when he sleeps.”

“It is the only comfort my brother can give to him,” Balin said. He marked his book with a string of red velvet and set it aside. “I believe he feels it the least he can do.”

“It is a kindness,” Thorin said, blowing on his tea.

“Bilbo has become a unique addition to our crew,” Balin commented. Thorin grunted in answer. “What will we do once we reclaim Erebor? Send him back to the Shire System?”

“Bilbo can never go back there until it is out of Government control,” Thorin said. “Gandalf told me about the Barrow Downs.” Balin frowned in confusion over the rim of his tea cup. “It is a mental asylum for the Hobbits who speak out against the Government or cause any trouble.”

“Where else can Bilbo go?” Balin asked softly. “If his own home is not safe.”

“I am sure Lord Elrond will be willing to take him in,” Thorin commented. He took a sip of tea and grimaced. He’d never liked lemon and honey tea. It reminded him of the few times he had fallen ill in his youth. “Otherwise Gandalf will find him a good home on one of his reservations.”

“Dori will probably leave to live with him,” Balin said. Thorin caught his sideways glance. “But, you know, we could always use a burglar on this ship.”

“Aye, that we could,” Thorin agreed, taking another sip of his tea. “Bilbo Baggins, expert burglar in search of plenty of excitement and reasonable reward.” Balin snorted into his tea at that, spilling the drink across the table. Thorin couldn’t stop the smalls smile from growing on his lips.

“Try a home,” Balin said, mopping up spilled tea with a napkin. A shout caught both their attentions.

“Bif! Don’t throw the monkey wrench at me!”

“Sounds like the lads are having fun again,” Balin commented drily. Thorin could only shake his head in disbelief. It was a wonder anything got done on the ship.

“Put down the sledgehammer! _Put down the sledgehammer!_ ”

“One of these days Bifur is going to forget to stop his swing,” Thorin said. “And then we will be one engineer short.”

“Of course, Bifur might just deiced to stuff his cousin and keep him,” Balin said. Thorin’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. Balin gave him a very pointed look. “You forget, laddie, I was young once too. And I will have you know I had quite the ideas when I was your age.” Thorin snorted at that. “Oh, knock it off, you vulgar ape.”

“You started it,” Thorin pointed out.

“DON’T SWING THAT THIN’ AT ME!”

“Perhaps we should go and stop them this time,” Balin said.

“Aye, that would probably be a good idea,” Thorin agreed. Neither Dwarf made a move to get up. They sat and stared at each other. “Or we can go spar down in the cargo bay.”

“Aye, that sounds like a better plan.” Abandon their tea, the two friends hurried down the stairs and away from the fight.

O.o.O

“Bif, get this thin’ off my face,” Bofur ordered weakly. Said ‘thing’ – a rather heavy sledgehammer – had been precariously perched on the engineer’s nose. One wrong move and it was goodbye eyeball. Bifur just grunted at his cousin. “Come on, Bif, I’m bein’ serious.”

“ _You are annoying me, cousin,_ ” Bifur snapped down at his prostrated cousin. Bofur gave him a cocky grin. Turning his attention back to the monitor, Bifur tried to make sense of what it was telling him. According to the screen, none of the parts were loose or leaking oil. The exhaust from the life support, though, seemed to be laced with unknown debris.

“Come on, Bif,” Bofur whined, wriggling under the sledgehammer. Bifur moved to rest on his cousin’s sternum. “Bif!”

“ _Shut up,_ ” Bifur snapped. “ _I am trying to read the screens_.” Tapping a few keys, he tried desperately to understand what the ship was telling him.

“What’s wron’ with it?” Bofur asked curiously.

“ _Something in the exhaust_ ,” Bifur sad. Pulling the sledgehammer back, he dropped a wrench onto his cousin’s chest. “ _Go under and loosen the valve. See if you can get any of the debris in the life support system._ ”

“Alright,” Bofur said uncertainly. He pulled himself under the engine. Metal hit metal, the _clinks_ and _clanks_ carrying up to Bifur’s ear. The Dwarf waited impatiently until his cousin spoke. “I’m not seein’ anythin’. Are ya sure something’s wron’ here?”

“ _There is something being pumped into the life support,_ ” Bifur said, crouching down. He could see Bofur’s funny hat hidden under the engine.

“Are ya sure?” Bofur asked again. “Because I’m tellin’ y-A!” The last word ended in a show as the valve hissed loudly. Pressurized air struck Bofur on the face, the Dwarf yelping and struggling. Bifur grabbed his cousin’s legs and dragged him out from under the engine. Bofur hacked, grabbing at his lungs. “Yer right! There’s somethin’ in there!”

“ _But what is it_?” Bifur wondered aloud.

“No idea, but it’s gone through the entire ship by now.”

“ _We need to tell Thorin._ _Get back under the engine and seal the valve again._ ”

O.o.O

Dwalin sat on the edge of the bed, Keeper propped against his knee as he sharpened it. Every one of his weapons had been carefully laid out on Balin’s bed on a clean cloth. He taken on the difficult duty of cleaning and sharpening each one to perfection. Honestly, he needed something to do when Bilbo took a nap. He couldn’t just leave the Hobbit to sleep alone and have nightmares. Reading wasn’t his strong suit, though, and he couldn’t stand wasting time on the Vein. So that left him with polishing his weapons.

The mass of blankets behind Dwalin shifted and the Dwarf froze. Bilbo had, once again, wrapped himself up in a nest of blanket. This time Dwlain’d had the opportunity to see how it was done. Bilbo would grab the corner of a blanket and roll himself up like a pig in a blanket. Every loose end was tucked in until there were no possible breaks in the blankets. Dwalin had to admit, he was impressed.

Bilbo sighed and fell back to sleep. Setting the whet stone aside, Dwalin stood up from the bed. He placed Keeper beside Grasper. He had finished with all the rudimentary weapons. All that was left were Insult and Injury – his knuckledusters – and Nori’s throwing knives. Dwalin had offered to clean and sharpen them for the thief in a fit of boredom.

“Attercop.” Dwalin frozen once more at Bilbo’s sigh. The mass rolled over, the Hobbit returning to his mumbling sleep. “Attercop.” Attercop . . . where had Dwalin heard that name before? Scratching his chin, he thought through all the answers. Each one led back to one point: the black-market. There was an almost seventy-thirty chance Nori knew who this Attercop character was.

Sparing Bilbo a glance, Dwalin tiptoed from the room. The Hobbit would be fine on his own for a few minutes. The nightmares usually only came at night, and even then well into the REM cycles. Normally a difficult Dwarf to find, the hunt for Nori only lasted a minute or two. Dwalin found the thief in his room talking with Dori. The brothers looked up at his entrance.

“Hello, Dwalin,” Dori said politely. “What brings you in here?” He gave a pointed glare to Nori who shook his head, his hands raised defensively.

“I didn’t do anything this time,” he said.

“You said that the last time,” Dori snapped at his younger brother.

“And that was the truth.”

“You’d shoved a man into the mines!”

“He was asking for it.”

“By demanding more money in your illegal trade?”

“Oi, this time it wasn’t illegal.”

“Says who? The thief and liar?”

“I resent that!”

Dwalin cleared his throat. The brothers’ bickering stopped and they blinked in surprise. Neither had noticed they had been moving toward each other in their argument. Now they stood nose to nose in the center of the room. Dori stepped back, smoothing the front of his jacket down, while Nori scratched his nose.

“I was lookin’ for Nori,” Dwalin said. Dori made a ‘t-cah’ sound of disgust. “But I wasn’t accusin’ him of anything.” Nori smirked at his brother who frowned back. “I had a question.”

“Ask away,” Nori said, waving a hand dramatically. Dori rolled his eyes.

“He’s only going to lie in the answer.”

“Am not!”

“Hey!” Dwalin shouted. The brothers stepped back from each other once more. “Dori, go check on Ori. I think he’s in his pod.” Dori opened his mouth to argue but Dwalin flexed his muscles. The smaller Dwarf had proven on many occasions that he could easily take Dwalin down without breaking a sweat. Only the thought of getting in trouble with Thorin for tearing the ship apart kept them from doing it.

“Fine,” Dori said, tugging at the hem of his coat. “At least Ori will appreciate me more.” Dwalin stepped aside to allow the shorter Dwarf by. Nori snickered, wiggling his fingers in a farewell gesture. The door swung shut after Dori’s exit and Dwalin turned to Nori.

“Alright, big guy,” Nori said, falling onto his bed. He wove his fingers behind his head. “What can I do for you?”

“Attercop,” Dwalin said. Nori’s eyes widened in surprise and he tensed. “You know the name?”

“Aye,” Nori said softly. “Where did you hear that name?” All pretense of humor had been dropped from his façade.

“Bilbo was sayin’ it in his sleep,” Dwalin said. “Figured it was someone you’d know.”

“I don’t actually know him per se,” Nori sad, licking his lips nervously. “But all good thieves on the black market know the name and to stay out of his way.”

“Who’s Attercop?” Dwalin asked. Nori sat up on his bed, tugging at his beard. Dwalin crossed his arms menacingly. “Nori, tell me who he is.”

“Attercop is a thief lord,” Nori sighed in resignation. “He practically rules the underground.”

“What makes you so nervous about him?”

“He’s ruthless. Attercop kills whoever crosses him and takes whatever he wants. He spins himself a web of spies and thieves.”

“How would Bilbo know about this Attercop guy?”

“My guess . . . Attercop’s the one who took him,” Nori said, and Dwalin tensed. “And Attercop doesn’t just let his prizes go.”

“We’re not handin’ Bilbo over to him,” Dwalin said tersely, earning himself a glare from Nori.

“Of course we’re not,” Nori said. “We just need to be better than Attercop. Do you want me to tell Thorin?”

“Not yet, Thorin’s got enough on his plate. Just keep an eye out for this Attercop guy.” Nori nodded and leaned back against the bed. Dwalin turned to leave, pausing at the thief’s words.

“Dwalin, if you ever see Attercop, don’t let him speak. He’ll spin you a web of lies.” Nori’s words were spoken with a dour expression. Dwalin gave him a terse nod then left to return to Bilbo. He found the Hobbit twitching in his sleep on the eaves of a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Also, I just wanted to tell you all that I am, in fact, a horticulture major at my college and here are my pet peeves about some authors.  
> 1\. The fruit trees you know and love are grown on dwarf stocks to make them small. A true fruit tree in middle-earth would have been at least four times that height.  
> 2\. Citrus trees WILL NOT GROW IN EREBOR! They do not like cold weather one bit. Which is why you won't find them any farther north than Florida.  
> 3\. You could not possibly grow cherry, pear, and citrus trees in the same soils. They all demand different attentions to both care and soil types. Seriously, this kills plants all the time. The soil may hold too much water (clay) not enough (sand) or it may not hold the right nutrients.  
> Seriously, I actually stopped reading a story just because of the fact they had pear, cherry, and citrus trees together. I know it's a weird thing to stop me from reading a story, but imagine something you love and then someone butchering it because they didn't do their research. Let me know if you need any help with plants. ;) Plant doctor here!


	29. Gridlocked and Grim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS! Seriously, if you have not read the last chapter that I rewrote then this one is going to be very confusing. So please go back and re-read it. I suppose you could continue reading this, but then you'd be uber confused and have to go back and read the last chapter anyway. Do whatever you want.  
> I got this idea while I was at work on Sunday. Why didn't I write it sooner? Two words: writer's block. Yeah, I got that again. Nothing I wrote worked until I tried writing the first scene from Bofur's point of view. Then it went great.  
> Now, will all my wonderful Browncoats (Firefly fans) please shout out what episodes this comes from. You should all know. ;) A cookie to the first person who's right!

**Gridlocked and Grim**

Bofur threw himself down the stairs with an urgency only a life-threatening situation could bring. And what a life-threatening situation it was. In the mere minutes it had taken him to close the exhaust valve the levels of debris detected in the engine had skyrocketed. They had risen to the point the debris had begun to break down and actually enter the life support system. The cousins and engineers had two options: shut down the life support system to clear out the debris or leave it running. One would kill them for sure, the other was the equivalent of standing in the cargo bay, pressing a random button, and hoping you didn’t get sucked into the black.

Bofur shoved a chair in the dining room out of his way and launched himself down the stairs to the cargo bay. A quick word from Ori had told him their captain and first-mate were sparring down there. Bofur had the sight of Thorin standing on the gangway for a brief moment before the two collided. Thorin gave a surprised shout, stumbling backward. Only Balin’s quick reflexes stopped him from flipping over the gangway’s railing to a certainly painful experience.

“Thorin,” Bofur gasped out, clutching at a stitch in his side. He really needed to get out and exercise more. “There ya are, I need ta - .”

“How many times have I told you to watch where you are going?” Thorin snapped. Bofur blinked in surprise, forgetting about his cramp for a moment. “One of these days you are going to push someone down and they will die. Who is going to be left to clean up the mess?”

“Um . . . not you?” Bofur guessed. Balin shook his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Laddie,” the older Dwarf began, but Thorin interrupted him.

“There is nothing in this universe that should have you risking the lives of others around you,” the captain snapped at his engineer. Bofur felt the heat rising to his face. “Now what are in Mahal’s name did you need to tell me?”

“Funny ya should mention that,” Bofur said with a weak chuckle. “Ya see, we could die any minute now.” Balin and Thorin stared at him for several long seconds. The sound of dripping water filled the cargo bay.

“Say that again,” Thorin said, his voice cracking.

“We could die.”

“We heard that,” Balin assured the engineer. “Tell us exactly what is happening with the engine.”

“Some debris got in it,” Bofur explained as he waved his hands around excitedly. “It must have been sucked in by the life support system.”

“The ions,” Thorin said in a hushed voice. Bofur gave him a confused look and he shrugged. “Sorry, that was what Kili called the . . . things floating outside.”

“Right,” Bofur said slowly. “Anyway, something’s gotten inta the engine and now it’s in the life support system.”

“Can’t you clear it out?” Balin asked.

“If we landed at a dock. We’d need ta shut down the entire engine ta clear it.”

“And that would kill the crew,” Thorin said with a nod. “Are there any other options?” he asked his engineer. Bofur could only shrug and shake his head.

“There’s not much to be done. It’s in the system now. We’re breathing it as we speak.” Thorin groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Thorin, we’re close enough ta Mirkwood . . .”

“I am _not_ asking Thranduil for help,” Thorin snarled, surprising Bofur. The normally jovial Dwarf took a careful step back. “He stood by and did nothing while Smaug attacked us.”

“Thorin,” Balin said. He accommodated his stern voice with his hands planted on his hips. “This is a life and death situation we are talking about. Are you truly ready to risk the life of your entire crew or your own pride?” Thorin opened his mouth to argue, but Balin cut him off. “No, I do not want to hear it. We do not know what this debris is or what harm it could bring to us. Our best hope would be to hail Lord Thranduil and ask for his aid.” Thorin glared at his first-mate as he turned away to stare into the cargo bay. Bofur could only watch his captain’s shoulders tense.

“There may be another way,” Thorin said, not turning back. “Bofur, how long does the oxygen in _the Eagles_ last?”

“Infinitely,” Bofur said with a shrug. “It recycles yer air and produces more oxygen while recycling the carbon for use in ammo.”

“Thorin, are you thinking what I think you are thinking?” Balin asked. Bofur could only look between the two friends in confusion. Sometimes he didn’t understand them. It was as if Balin could read Thorin’s mind at times.

“We evacuate the crew,” Thorin said as he whirled back around. Bofur had to step back to avoid being beamed in the head by a flying arm. “Have everyone board their _Eagle_ and leave the ship. They will remain nearby while Bofur and Bifur can use oxygen suits to repair the engine.”

“Provided Bofur and Bifur are willing to do it,” Balin reminded his captain. Thorin looked to Bofur and he nodded eagerly.

“Oh, aye, we can have it done in a jiffy.”

“Then run and tell Bifur,” Thorin commanded. “Balin and I will spread the word. I will have Kili and Fili bring you the oxygen suits.” Bofur nodded and turned to race back up the stairs. A great rumble through the ships stopped his steps in their tracks. He careened sideways into the wall as another tremor ran through the ship. His fingers scrabbled to get a purchase on the stair’s railing. Finally, the tremors stopped and he could pull himself upright. Behind him Thorin cursed and Balin grunted in pain.

“What was that?” Thorin asked. “That felt like an earthquake.”

“No,” Bofur said. His mind reeled with the possibilities of the cause. “That’s no earthquake.”

“Then what was it?” Balin asked. Bofur turned to see him picking himself up off the floor. Thorin massaged where his ribs has struck the railing. His expression must have been truly terrifying. Both Dwarves froze in their positions, watching him with growing fear.

“Bofur,” Thorin said. “What is it? What caused that?”

“Run,” Bofur croaked out. “Get ta a pod. RUN!”

O.o.O

Fili grabbed the console as the entire ship tremored. Kili grabbed at the railing to keep himself upright while Ori stumbled past. The youngest of the three Dwarves found himself launched unceremoniously into the copilot’s chair. His wide eyes fell on Fili.

“What was that?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I don’t know,” Fili said. Spinning in the pilot’s chair, he checked the monitor to the engine room. The computer screen flashed red briefly under all the dancing ants and fizzling lines. “Something’s wrong in the engine room but I can’t see what.” He slammed a hand against the monitor but it did nothing to clear it up.

“Bifur, what’s going on?” Kili shouted down the hallway. No response came from the engine room but for the great screech of metal on metal. Fili grabbed at the engine room’s handheld, roaring into it.

“Bifur, report! What’s going on in there?” Ori stood shakily from the chair and moved to stand beside Kili, peeking out into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” he asked, tears in his eyes. Kili wrapped a comforting arm around him.

“It’ll be alright.”

“BIFUR, REPORT!” Fili roared. No answer came from the intercom. Instead, it came from down the hall.

“ _Run_!” Fili gaped at the Khuzdul. “ _RUN_!” Bifur’s final shout was followed by the slamming of his bedroom door.

“What’s going on?” Fili asked. He never truly got his answer. For at that moment a great shudder ran through the ship. Tortured creaks and screams echoed down from the engine room. The ship jerked sideways, beeps and tones filling the cockpit. Fili clapped his hands over his ears. He saw Kili’s eyes widen as a great roar echoed from down the hall and then Kili shouted.

“GET DOWN!” He tackled poor Ori straight down the stairs of the cockpit. They fell out of sight of Fili who spun around, trapped in his chair by the harness. The seconds seemed to grow longer as the roar grew closer. It was as though Fili was watching everything through a slow motion camera.

Tongues of flame flew into the cockpit. They washed over everything straight in front of them and licked against the walls. Fili had a brief moment of terror before his mind flew into overdrive. Whirling his chair around, he threw several switches and fiddled with knobs. The cockpit door slammed shut with a _clang_ , locking in place. The existing fire sputtered and died without its source. Fili spun one last dial before slamming a red button down. A new screaming tone warmed him the cargo bay doors had been opened.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Fili said through a dry throat. He waited for several seconds before slamming the bay’s door shut again. Another series of switch manually shut down the engine completely, hopefully cutting off the source of the fire. Fili fell back into his chair gasping. Never before had he seen something like that before. It might have even rivaled the Goblin attack on the Misty Mountains. The adrenaline slowly left his system, leaving him with a weak feeling. His eyes flew open.

“Kili,” he whispered. Slapping the harness open, he threw himself from the chair. The stumble to the railing drained him of nearly all his energy. What he saw next took it all. Kili lay sprawled under Ori, his neck turned awkwardly in one direction. Blood had begun to pool under his head. Ori laid trembling on top of him, his hands over his head.

“Kili,” Fili said again. “No, no, don’t be dead. Kili.” Dragging himself down the steps, he forced his body to kneel beside his brother’s. His shaking hands pressed weakly against his brother’s head. “Kili, please don’t be dead. Please, please. Oh, Mahal.”

“F-Fili?” Ori asked in a squeaking voice. “Wh-What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Fili said in a croaking voice. “The engine must have overheated or something. I manually shut it down.”

“A-And the fire?”

“I shut all the major doors of the ship and opened the cargo bay. The fire would have been blown out that way.” Ori laid his head back down on Kili’s chest, sobbing. “It’ll be alright, Ori.”

“N-No it won’t,” Ori sobbed pitifully. “K-Kili’s d-dead because of me. A-And now everyone c-could be d-dead and w-we’re all going to d-die.” Fili swallowed hard as he continued to card his fingers through Kili’s hair. He couldn’t argue with the younger Dwarf there. With the engine down there was no life support. Who could tell how long the crew had to live? A realization dawned on Fili and he laughed in relief. Ori lifted his face to glare at him.

“Wh-What are you laughing?”

“Kili will be fine,” Fili said, shaking his head. “He has the medical mites in him, remember? They’ll repair any damage that’s been done to him.” Ori sat up slowly. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Fili said firmly. “Now come on. We need to find some way to get into communication with the rest of the crew.” Ori followed him on shaking legs back up to the second level. “Check the copilot’s side for anything useful, I’ll try this side,” Fili said, nodding to the pilot’s side. Ori nodded nervously and hurried to obey. Turning to the monitors, Fili tried a few switches. Nothing worked. Completely shutting down the engine had drained the ship of her power. Still, Fili tried everything with no luck whatsoever.

“Nothing over here,” Ori said after a few minutes. Fili fell into the pilot’s chair with a sigh. “What do we do?” Fili could only look at him, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Ori. I really don’t know.”

O.o.O

Bilbo clutched the blankets tighter around himself. He had awoke several minutes ago to a strange roaring sound followed by a _click_. The lights had then proceeded to flicker off, plunging the room into darkness. Bilbo didn’t like the dark. It reminded him of bad things. The sound of Dwalin’s kicks filled the room.

“Dwalin?” Bilbo said softly. When Dwalin didn’t stop kicking the door, he raised his voice to a higher note. “Dwalin?” he tried again. This time he found himself nearly tackled to the bed.

“I’m sorry, _Pundurith_ ,” Dwalin said, wrapping his arms around Bilbo. “I didn’t meant to wake you up. Are you alright?”

“I-I think so,” Bilbo said in a quivering voice. Dwalin’s arms tightened around him. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Somethin’ must have happened in the engine room.”

“Is that why the power went out?”

“Aye, it means someone’s shut down the engine.”

“B-But . . . without the engine we don’t breathe.”

“I know that, laddie.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

O.o.O

Nori ripped the room apart. The mattresses were dragged from the beds. The clothes were ripped from the hangers. The dressers were knocked over. Nori didn’t do well with being trapped.

O.o.O

Oin began to tidy up the medical bay with shaking hands. He had found himself locked in with no way out. The least he could do was make sure the medical bay was in tiptop shape. Who knew, maybe they’d actually survive this one.

O.o.O

Gloin didn’t care if all his reports had been burned by a dragon at this point. All he wanted to know was that is brother was safe. Oin was on the only one who mattered. But no amount of kicking the door seemed to get his point across. He was trapped with no escape.

O.o.O

Bombur sat on his bed, hoping and praying his brother and cousin were alright. He knew they worked in the engine room. He knew the dangers that came with that kind of job. He knew every day was a game of life and death just waiting to take the wrong turn. He _prayed_ to Mahal he was wrong.

O.o.O

Bifur couldn’t think straight. One minute he had been trying to stop the engine form spinning out of her cradle, and the next the fire had begun to grow. He didn’t know where it came from. And at this point, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that his cousins were safe and sound. They had been his rocks in a stormy sea of confusion.

O.o.O

Dori stood shakily from his place on the floor of Ori’s pod. Thankfully none of the maps had been damaged in the great shaking event. The pod’s door glowed red-hot, but other than that everything was fine. He didn’t know what had happened. Probably something with the engine.

“Mahal,” he whispered, clasping his hands together. “Please, please, _please_ protect Nori and Ori. They’re all I have left.”

O.o.O

“He’s just unconscious,” Balin said from his examination of Thorin. Straightening up, he looked at Bofur who sat in the pod’s pilot seat. “That was some quick thinking you had back there.”

“It was nothin’,” Bofur said in a shaky voice.

“It saved our lives,” Balin said. “I think that must stand for something.” Bofur just shrugged at him.

Thorin and Balin had reacted almost instantly to Bofur’s shout, running for the nearest pod. The moment they had reached it, the ship had given a great lurch. Thorin had been thrown forward into the wall where his head had connected with a sickening _crack_. Balin and Bofur had managed to drag him into the pod before it had locked shut. The captain hadn’t woken up yet.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” Balin asked.

“It must have been the engine,” Bofur said. “She could have overheated and spat fire out. Fili must have rerouted it out the cargo bay.”

“Hopefully no one was in the way of that,” Balin said softly. Bofur shut his eyes against the very thought. His brother spent most of his time in the kitchen. “And the power has gone out?”

“Aye, if Fili shut down the engine ta stop the fire,” Bofur said. Balin looked around himself at the pod.

“Is this one of the working pods?”

“Aye, it should be fully charged from when Gandalf last used it.”

“Is there any hope of using it to hail Thranduil for help?”

“No, the power will have knocked her out.”

The two Dwarves fell into an uncomfortable silence. Balin took the chance to check on Thorin one more time. Still no sign of waking. Sighing, he sat back on his heels. And then the realization hit him.

“Bofur,” he said. The engineer hummed in answer. “If the engine is down, then what are we breathing?”

“What was pumped into the air,” Bofur said. “We’ll be breathin’ carbon dioxide in a few hours’ time.”

“This is not good,” Balin said, pacing over to the door. He dared to grab the red hot handle and yanked.

“That’ll do ya no good. Fili’ll have locked all the doors ta stop the fire from spreadin’ anywhere else.”

“Doesn’t this pod have her own engine?” Balin asked the engineer. “Could you get her going? Perhaps then we could find some use of it.”

“On it,” Bofur said, leaping up from his chair. He hurried to open a sliding panel. A small engine sat behind it. “I’ll be done in a jiffy.”

“We don’t have a jiffy,” Balin said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you really liked the chapter. It only took me about an hour and a half to write. But I really wanted to thank Shily for their review. Every review is special to me, but some touch me a bit more than others do. Thank you very much. :) And know that I appreciate everyone else just as much. I'm not picking favorites.  
> Now, I don't know if any of you noticed, but I don't often review on people's stories. The reason for this is because I am a critiquer. I cannot read a story and not tell someone how they could fix it up. The problem with this is that no one wants to be told "you have a lot of potential, here's how you can fix up your story". They tend to just stop writing their stories right then and there. I actually caused someone to take their story down from Fanfiction. But to be fair, they ended their story really badly (poorly explained and rushed just so they could be done with the story) and the story didn't focus so much on the original story line as it did the . . . erm . . . I'll just call them *relations*. Thankfully, that author didn't stop writing altogether. Though I try to avoid her stories from now on. I just wanted to explain to you all why you'll rarely see me review. :/ I tend to butcher things a little bit.


	30. Eerie and Elicited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was writing this chapter when *BAM* I noticed I had reached the usual length of chapters I write. It's a good place to leave off, but I feel bad for it. Let me know what you think. And sorry for the long wait. You know how Shily said I write at the expense of my own time? Well I've got two exams coming up and I'd left some homework to do until this weekend and it's due on Monday. But I'll still try to update another chapter!

**Eerie and Elicited**

“Got it!” Bofur shouted from behind the engine. Balin looked up as he rolled Thorin’s sleeve back down. The engineer had stuck his head out from around the now whirling machine. He frowned at the sight of Balin kneeling beside Thorin. “What are ya doin’?”

“He was starting to regain consciousness,” Balin explained, straightening up. “I gave him a sedative to keep him asleep.” He showed Bofur the syringe in his hand then tossed it back into the medkit he had found. Bofur gaped at him. He swallowed before speaking.

“I think that could be considered treason,” Bofur commented. Balin leveled him with a stern glare.

“Laddie,” he said with his hands planted on his hips. “Asleep, Thorin is using up less oxygen than both of us together. Awake, we will run out of it faster. As long as I remain conscious then at least someone intelligent on this ship is in command.”

“Fair enough,” Bofur agreed. He stepped around the engine, wincing as the lights flickered on. “What’s next, then?”

“What does the ship have?” Balin asked. “Can we fly her anywhere?”

“Aye,” Bofur said. He fell into the pilot seat and began fiddling with the dials. Balin approached the chair, looking over his shoulder. The monitors fizzled with ants and black lines. “But we won’t get very far. These pods aren’t made ta last lon’.”

“Then there is no hope of making it to Thranduil’s kingdom?” Balin asked, earning himself a look from Bofur. “Laddie, Thorin’s plan has fallen through. We have no other way of escape but to hope the Elf king will help us.”

“Ya got a point there,” Bofur said, returning to the dials. Nothing he did would stop either the ants or the fizzing. “But she won’t make it. Without _the Arkenstone’s_ engine running the pod’s clamped into her harness.”

“What about messages?” Balin asked. “Could she send one of those?” Bofur thought through the question, scratching his chin.

“Aye,” he eventually said. “There’d be no way ta tell if the Elves actually got it . . . or who gets it, fer that matter.”

“Then it is our only chance,” Balin said sadly. “Can you set up a loop for a video call?”

“Aye,” Bofur said. Balin stepped back to allow the engineer room to work. His eyes fell on Thorin. Their captain’s face was an expression of calm in his sleep. Balin felt terrible for having sedated him, but it was his only choice. No one had any idea how much oxygen they had or how long they had before they froze to death. Already an hour and a half had passed since the ship’s engine had spat out fire.

“She’s all ready.” Balin turned at Bofur’s words. The engineer moved from the pilot’s seat and motioned for Balin to sit down. The first-mate did so, spinning to face the camera. Bofur leaned over a set of dials, flicking a switch.

“Ready when ya are,” he said. Balin nodded to him and he flipped the switch. A red light flickered on just above the camera.

“I am Balin, first-mate to Thorin Oakenshield, captain of _the Arkenstone_ ,” Balin said clearly, looking straight into the camera. He couldn’t mess this up. It was their one chance at survival. “We are currently dead in the water. Our engine has malfunctioned and the crew is trapped aboard. It has been an hour and a half since the malfunction and already we are low on oxygen. This is a mayday to any who hear it. Please, help us.” Balin paused for a moment, waiting for Bofur to speak.

“Alright,” the engineer said. Balin turned to see him twisting a dial three hundred and sixty degrees. “Yer message is on a loop now, it’ll replay as long as the engine runs.”

“Thank you, Bofur,” Balin said. Bofur gave him a smile marred by anxiety. Balin’s eyes fell on the engineer’s wrist as he reached for another switch. He frowned at the tan strap around his wrist. “What is that?” Bofur followed Balin’s pointing finger to his wrist.

“It’s a communicator,” he said. “Ta Bilbo’s translator.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Balin asked. He ignored his own voice speaking behind him as the loop began. That would eventually drive him insane. Even he got sick of listening to himself speak at times.

“I didn’t know if Bilbo had survived the malfunction,” Bofur said, scratching under his hat. He made sure to straighten it once he was done. “Did ya want me ta try talkin’ ta him?” Balin’s narrowed eyes gave him his answer. “Right, on it.” Lifting his wrist to his mouth, Bofur spoke into it. “Bilbo, can ya hear me? Answer me, Bilbo.” Neither Dwarf noticed the screen behind them flash nor the strange clicking and popping sound that emitted from the speakers.

_“. . . Attercop.”_

O.o.O

Bilbo’s scream filled the small room. Dwalin swore loudly and jerked sideways in surprise, bashing his head against the wall. He massaged his aching skull as he sat up, trying to see in the dark. Bilbo’s screams continued to bounce off the walls, filling his ears.

“Bilbo?” Dwalin said. “ _Pundurith_ , what happened?” Bilbo didn’t answer. He simply continued to scream. It was the ungodly scream that begged for _someone_ to save him. Clearly something had terrified the Hobbit. Staggering to his feet, Dwalin stumbled to the bed. He fell onto the mattress and pulled Bilbo into his arms. The Hobbit clutched at him as he continued to scream.

“Hush, _Pundurith_ ,” Dwalin murmured, carding his fingers through Bilbo’s hair. He felt the trembles that coursed through the Hobbit’s body. Only one thing ever frightened him that much: nightmares. And Bilbo hadn’t even been sleeping. “Bilbo, you need to calm down,” Dwalin tried. Bilbo showed no signs he’d heard but for starting another scream. “Bilbo, don’t make me do this,” Dwalin warned. He needed Bilbo coherent enough to speak to and the Hobbit was showing no signs of stopping any time soon. When Bilbo inhaled for the next scream, Dwalin ran his fingers down the Hobbit’s chest. He found the abdomen area and pressed lightly on his target.

“Sorry, _Pundurith_ ,” Dwalin said before he pulled his fingers back and jabbed Bilbo in the solar plexus. The Hobbit’s scream cut off in a choking sound, his hands flying to his throat. His chest heaved with the difficulty of drawing breath.

“What did you do?” a voice asked above Dwalin. The warrior had barely a moment to look up before a light shone in his eyes. He raised a hand to shield them.

“You damn thief,” he growled. “How’d you get out of your room?”

“Air vents,” Nori said, moving the light. Dwalin looked up to see him hanging upside from the ceiling. His legs were hooked over the edge and he held a flashlight in his hands. “What’d you do that for?” he asked, motioning to the gasping Bilbo. Dwalin looked at the Hobbit sheepishly.

“He wouldn’t stop screaming,” he said.

“So you choked him?”

“I didn’t choke him.”

“You made it hard for him to breathe. What do you call that?”

“Well I didn’t wrap my hands around his throat.”

“What’s the difference?”

The Dwarves stopped arguing when Bilbo gave a great squeak and collapsed sideways. Dwalin blinked in mild surprise. Pressing his fingers against Bilbo’s throat, he felt for a pulse. Nori remained blissfully silent, waiting for a diagnosis.

“He’s just unconscious,” Dwalin said, pulling his hand back. “Must have been the shock.”

“Of being choked?” Nori suggested. He winked at Dwalin’s glare. “Just saying.”

“And I’m just sayin’ if you say I choked him one more time, I’ll choke _you._ ”

“Oh, scary,” Nori snorted. Dwalin threw his pillow at the Dwarf who just laughed. “Lighten up, I’m just joking.”

“Didn’t Thorin tell you not to climb through the air vents,” Dwalin snapped.

“Aye,” Nori said. “And where would I be if I listened to him?” Dwalin ignored the last question in favor of checking on Bilbo. The Hobbit’s heart rate had slowed down but barely. It fluttered like a hummingbird’s in the Hobbit’s chest. “It’s probably this room.”

“What?” Dwalin said, turning to Nori. The thief turned the flashlight on his face, casting himself into shadows.

“He’s probably stressed from being trapped in this room,” the thief said. “I bet it reminds him of that casket the smugglers locked him in. He’s trapped in a small space with a very high chance of dying.” Dwalin looked back to Bilbo, worry growing in his gut.

“We could all die if the engine doesn’t get going again,” he said. Bilbo twitched as Dwalin carded his fingers through his hair. “What can we do about it?”

“We can start by getting Bilbo out of this room,” Nori said. Tucking the flashlight under one arm, he motioned to Dwalin. “Give him here and I’ll get him to the living area.”

“Why don’t you just pick the locks and let us all out?” Dwalin demanded.

“Because these locks are pressurized cylinders,” Nori said with a scoff. Dwalin wilted at that. “I’d need the engine online in order to that. At least I can get Bilbo out of this stuffy room and into a wider space. Once he wakes up we can make some plans to escape.” Dwalin hesitated, thinking through his options, before speaking.

“Alright,” he said. Scooping Bilbo into his arms, he rose from the bed and approached Nori. “Get him out to the living area and try to wake him up.” Nori tossed Dwalin the flashlight and hooked his hands under Bilbo’s armpits.

“Will do,” he said before using his legs to drag himself and Bilbo back up. Dwalin watched as the two disappeared into the wide air vents.

“Do you need the flashlight back?” Dwalin asked, brandishing the small machine.

“Nah, I got more up here,” Nori said. His face appeared back over Dwalin and he winked. “Not to worry, tough guy, we’ll have you all out of here in a jiffy.” And then he was gone, taking Bilbo with him. Dwalin returned to his bed and sat down on it. He fell back against the wall.

“We don’t have a jiffy.”

O.o.O

“Tauriel.” The captain of the guard paused at her name and turned to the Elf who had spoken. He had a headset pressed against a pointed ear, a frown on his face.

“What is it?” Tauriel asked. The Elf raised one finger to silence her and listened intently. Finally, he turned to his captain.

“We have received a distress signal,” he said. “A ship has been stranded in the Mirkwood without either power or life support.”

“Is it an Elvish ship?” Tauriel asked.

“No, Dwarvish by the sounds of it.”

“Leave it for their own people,” Tauriel ordered. She turned to leave but the Elf spoke again.

“At least listen to it, Tauriel.” Tauriel sighed but turned on his heel and marched toward the Elf who handed her the headset. She pressed the headphone to her ear.

_“Our engine has malfunctioned,”_ the words were spoken with a thick Dwarvish accent. Tauriel made to hand the headset back when the next words came through. _“And the crew is trapped – Attercop – It has been an hour and a half.”_

“Play it back,” Tauriel ordered.

“No need,” the Elf said. “Whoever sent this has it on a loop. The message will play again. And indeed it did.”

_“I am Balin, first-mate to Thorin – Attercop – captain of the Arkenstone. We are currently dead in the water. Our engine has malfunctioned and the crew is trapped – Attercop – It has been an hour and a half since the malfunction and already we are low on oxygen. This is a mayday to – Attercop – who hear it. Please, help us.”_

“The Spiders,” Tauriel breathed. The Elf eased the headset out of her tense hands. “Locate the source of the message,” she ordered. “Then set a course for it.” Turning, she fled down the hall.

“Where are you going?” the Elf called after her.

“To find Legolas.”

O.o.O

Bilbo awoke to a pounding in his head and a song in his ears. Several seconds passed before it even began to make any sense to him.

_“So, the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,_

_A jig that would wake the dead,_

_And up and down he quickened his tune,_

_While the landlord shook the man in the moon,_

_It’s after three, he said!”_

“Bofur,” Bilbo groaned. The singing Dwarf started the song over again, oblivious to Bilbo’s headache. Lifting his wrist to his mouth, Bilbo spoke into it. “Bofur, stop.” Mercifully the Dwarf stopped singing. There was a moment’s pause before he spoke again.

_“Bilbo! Yer awake!”_ Bilbo winced at the volume. Sitting up, he pressed a hand against his pounding skull. He didn’t feel the hand that wrapped around his wrist or the breath against his skin.

“Bilbo just woke up, he has a headache. Leave him be, Bofur.” Bilbo peeked out of the corner of his eye to see Nori speaking into the microphone. The thief winked at him.

_“Right, sorry, Bilbo,”_ Bofur said. _“But talk ta me as soon as ya can. We need yer help.”_ Bilbo tugged his wrist from Nori’s grip and spoke into it.

“Will do, Bofur,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”

_“Sure thin’!”_ Bilbo winced at the volume and massaged his head again. The headache was only growing worse by the second. It made it hard to focus on anything. Eventually, he looked up to find himself sitting on the dining table. Nori sat in a chair beside him, tipping back dangerously.

“What happened?” he asked. Nori offered him a cup of water and he accepted it gratefully, taking careful sips.

“You started screaming,” Nori said. Bilbo paused and looked at him in confusion. “Don’t you remember that?” Bilbo shook his head. “Huh,” Nori said, scratching his chin. “Weird. Well, Dwalin couldn’t get you to stop so he jabbed your solar plexus. It made you choke and then you passed out. I brought you out here for some fresh air.”

“How did you do that?” Bilbo asked. “The door was locked.”

“The air vents,” Nori said, motioning above them. Bilbo looked up to see a grate hanging by two hinges. A black streak in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned his head. The wall around the door leading down the cargo bay had been scorched black. Even the floor and ceiling were burned. Turning his gaze down, Bilbo saw the steel table had been turned black by fire.

“Did the engine catch on fire?” Bilbo asked. Nori could only shrug.

“You’d have to ask Bofur.” Bilbo gave the thief a dubious look and Nori raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I don’t know anything about engines. That’s Bofur’s specialty.” Raising his wrist to his mouth, Bilbo spoke into it once more.

“Bofur,” he said.

_“Aye!”_

“Did the engine catch on fire?”

_“I couldn’t tell ya,”_ Bofur said. Bilbo sighed. Well _that_ was helpful. _“I wasn’t up there when it happened. Bifur was, though. I don’t know what happened to him.”_

“Is there anything we can do about it?” Bilbo asked.

_“Since I can’t see the engine I don’t know. Unless Bifur’s still in the engine room then there’s not much we can do there. Balin and I have sent out a mayday to the Elves.”_ Bilbo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even if the Elves did get the message there was no telling how long it would take for them to reach _the Arkenstone_. Already Bilbo could feel the temperature dropping.

“Right,” Bilbo said, making his decision. “Bofur, I’m going to fix the engine.” He turned to Nori who had raised his eyebrows. “I need a way into the engine room.”

_“Yer what?”_

“The air vents,” Nori said, pointing up. “Just follow them up. You’ll have to climb vertically to get up to the first floor, but there’s handholds. After that, you just act like you’re walking through the ship. The vents follow each room.”

“Easy enough,” Bilbo said. Nori shrugged unsurely. “Can you get me there?” The thief shook his head at that.

“I’m drained,” he told Bilbo. “I don’t know if I can crawl through anymore vents.” Bilbo’s gut twisted at that. Without Nori’s help he could get lost in the ship. How much more trouble could they get into during that time? “I can give you a boost up, though,” Nori said. He stood from the chair and climbed onto the table beside Bilbo.

_“Wait, Bilbo, how are ya goin’ ta fix the engine?”_

“I know enough about engines,” Bilbo said into the microphone. “The Tooks spend enough time tinkering with them. I’m sure I can fix it.”

_“What’s a_ Took _?”_

“Ready?” Nori asked. Bilbo nodded and stood. He stepped into the linked hands Nori offered him as a step-up. The Dwarf easily lifted him high enough that his fingers grabbed the edge of the air vent.

“A bit higher,” Bilbo grunted. Nori obliged and he managed to hook his elbows against the air vent’s walls. “Got it!”

“Alright, drag yourself up and move on. Good luck.” Bilbo only grunted in response and he pulled himself up into the air vent. It was surprisingly easier than Bilbo had though it would be.

The air vents themselves were a rather tight fit for a Dwarf and still small for a Hobbit’s standards. Bilbo would have to pull himself along by the elbows until he reached a larger area. The air in the vents was stale, the metal cold under his touch.

“Right, onward and forward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, right. Still giving the Browncoats a chance to name this Firefly episode. I'll give you until the chapter when they're rescued. Which may be the next chapter, depending on how everything goes. How did this one turn out? Am I still going strong with a better rewrite? Let me know! (And thanks to all who have reviewed, it really means a lot to me).


	31. Apparitions and Ailments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I have officially hit thirty chapters (and a prologue). Wow, I didn't think the story would last this long. This thing honestly started out as simply another Hobbit story and it has grown into something so much more.  
> Alright then. Thank you all for your lovely review! They really do mean a lot to me. This semester has been really hard so far and your words make me feel better. Especially since no one on Fanfiction.net tells me anything. T.T  
> Imreth, you are correct! Our precious Dwarves are Out of Gas!  
> Luffy, thank you for pointing that out. Kili actually became a very handy scene.

**Apparitions and Ailments**

Nori hadn’t been kidding. The air vents leading to the first floor ran straight up and down along the wall. A fall from this height would mean finding oneself all the way on the third level’s air vent system. Bilbo swallowed hard as he stared up into the disappearing black of the duct. The climb had to be at least twelve feet up, nearly four times his height. A recent inspection of the vents revealed what Nori had called ‘footholds’ were nothing more than the jutting seams of the air vents. The climb would be treacherous at best.

“Blast it,” Bilbo muttered to himself.

_“Bilbo, do ya even have any idea what yer doin’?”_ Bofur’s voice carried over the transmitter in his ear. Bilbo sighed and lifted the microphone to his mouth.

“Not one bit,” he said. “But right now I’m the only one who can fix the engine. The rest of you are trapped . . . hopefully.” Bofur didn’t argue with that. In fact, no more words came over the transmitter. Bilbo waited a respectful amount of time then deemed their conversation finished.

Turning in the air vent proved to be both a painful and difficult job. Bilbo managed it by curling in on himself then easing himself back in a somersault. The task ended with a ripped shirt and a probably scratched back. Nonetheless, Bilbo’s legs now dangled in the vertical vents. Reaching out with his toes, he found the parallel horizontal vent. He managed to ease himself out of the vent he sat in until he was supporting himself with one foot on either vent.

“Alright,” Bilbo said to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Not so hard.” Looking around himself, he found an outcrop for the screws nearly a foot above his head. He reached up and grasped it with his fingers. Pulling himself up with only his hands was hard until he managed to press his feet flat against the wall on either side of him. He shifted his feet slightly against the walls, the metal cool under his touch. Already he could feel the beading sweat on his forehead chilling. He didn’t have much time. Bilbo had just began to shuffle his hands and feet up the wall when a voice spoke through the transmitter.

_“Ya alright there, Bilbo?”_ Bilbo gave a great yelp and felt his sweaty palms slip. Only the chance of his feet pressing harder against the walls stopped him from falling. _“Bilbo, ya there?”_ Bilbo looked around himself, as though searching for help. _“Bilbo?”_ Finally, Bilbo dared to lift a shaking hand to his mouth.

“I’m in the air vents,” Bilbo said, his voice quivering with the words. “I’d appreciate it if you would not talk. I’m trying to concentrate.”

_“Right, sorry,”_ Bofur said, sounding sheepish. _“Let me know when you get ta the engine room.”_

“Fine,” Bilbo snapped. “Now please shut up so I can concentrate.” When no other words came from Bofur, he nodded firmly. Bofur keeping quiet meant one less thing to worry about. Bilbo turned his attention back to shuffling up the air vents.

The climb was both deadly and terrifying. Deadly because one wrong move would send Bilbo plummeting more than twenty feet to the ground. Terrifying because Bilbo didn’t like falling. It would be just like his nightmares. No one would be there to catch him when he fell. He’d be all alone. Just like in the beginning. Just like in his nightmares.

Bilbo had made it nearly halfway through his climb when it happened. A scratching sound against air vent walls caught his attention. He froze, his breath catching in his chest as he listened. There it went again. A strange scratching and clicking sound; as if someone else was in the air vents. The scratching stopped momentarily and when no other sounds came, Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d just been imagining it. Shuffling his hands upward, he returned to the climb. He’d moved only a few more paces when the sound returned. This time it was accompanied by a single word.

_“Attercop.”_

Bilbo froze. The scratching sound resumed, this time closer. It didn’t sound even remotely human. It sounded as though whatever was moving had more than two legs, maybe even two. Bilbo’s chest constricted as the scratching sound drew nearer by the minute.

_Footsteps against the grated floor._

“No, no,” Bilbo muttered, pressing his forehead against the cool vent wall.

_Hands grabbed at him, dragging him out from under the bench._

“Please, no,” The scratching sound drew ever nearer and nearer, the popping and clicking hiss reaching his ears.

_“Ripe for the picking. Attercop will be happy with this one.”_

Bilbo tried to shift his hand upward but he found he couldn’t move it. His brain was sending the orders but his hand was refusing to move. His limbs trembled in both terror and the effort to hold himself up. He could have sworn the walls were closing in on him.

_“Attercop will be happy with this one.”_

The walls were constricting. He bit down on his arm to stop his scream. The pungent taste of leather and sharp taste of something vaguely familiar danced along his tongue. The pain didn’t help the terror from growing in his chest.

_“Attercop will be happy.”_

His breaths came out in frenzied gasps. Black dots swarmed over his vision. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t save himself. They were going to get him. He bit down harder, pain lancing down his arm. His finger trembled against the walls.

_“Attercop.”_

His fingers slipped.

O.o.O

Fili trembled underneath the blanket, his teeth chattering. Several hours had passed since he’d shut the ship completely down. He and Ori had managed to straighten Kili’s neck out without his younger brother waking up. Kili had remained that way since, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Fili hoped he’d stay that way. It was better that Kili didn’t know what was happening.

A small whimper caught Fili’s attention and he looked over to see Ori curled up against the wall with his back to Fili. It had been the youngest Dwarf who had found the two blankets. Fili had opted to take one and share it with his brother – pulling Kili close to himself – leaving Ori to take the other. Another whimper escaped Ori and Fili could see his shoulders shaking.

“Or-ri,” Fili croaked, trying to stop his chattering teeth. Ori sniffled, a sign that he was listening. “C-Come here.” The Dwarf didn’t move at first. Several long minutes passed before he finally slid across the floor to Fili’s side. Fili wrapped his blanket around the younger Dwarf, squashing Kili between them.

“It’ll be alright,” Fili told Ori softly. “We’ll get out of this.”

“H-How?” Ori asked, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks. “W-We’re all locked in w-with nowhere to go.”

“Thorin’ll think of something,” Fili said. “Or maybe your brother will. They’re both smart enough to get us all out of here.”

“Nori was in his room,” Ori muttered. Fili pulled him closer. The shared body heat gave him a comforting feeling. “And Dori was in my pod. What if Dori left the pod before you locked the doors?” Fili could heard the panic rising in Ori’s voice.

“He didn’t,” Fili said immediately, trying to sound reassuring. “Dori’s smart enough to know better than to leave the pod before you get back. He’d have waited for you.” Ori sniffled and pressed up against Fili. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, broken only by shuddering breaths and the chattering of teeth.

“H-How’s Kili?” Ori asked after a while. Fili shifted his head to check on his brother’s head wound. Tilting Kili’s head forward, Fili examined the bruises along his neck.

“He’s better,” he said, letting his brother’s head fall back. “His should be fixed by now and the cut on his head is gone.” Ori snuggled against him with a soft mutter.

“What do you think that thumping sound was?” the younger Dwarf asked. Fili tilted his head back thoughtfully.

Nearly three hours ago, before the temperature had really started to drop, he and Ori had been searching the cockpit for anything useful. Fili knew it inside and out, but sometimes Kili liked to hide new things in there. The search had found them dried food and canteens of water Kili had stashed away for emergency use. Fili had been delighted with his younger brother’s paranoia. It might have just saved their life. At that moment a _slam_ had echoed through the air vents. Ori had leapt to his feet in surprise, asking Fili what it had been. Fili still had the same now as he had three hours ago.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know, Ori.”

O.o.O

Nori held his hand up to the light, inspecting the way the light flickered off his silver rings. The beam struck the diamond and shattered into a rainbow. The thief could only snort in amusement and turn his hand this way and that. Every worrying thought about Bilbo getting to the engine room fled from his head, his focus entirely on the diamond ring. Who cared about not hearing from Bilbo for over five hours? The ring was so much more beautiful.

If only it had been real.

O.o.O

_“Now, Bilbo,” Belladonna said to her son, seated on the edge of his bed. “What have I told you about waking up from nightmares?” She stroked back his bangs. Bilbo leaned into her touch, yearning for her not to stop._

_“I shouldn’t do it anymore,” Bilbo said dutifully. His mother smiled down at him and patted his cheek comfortingly. “But I saw it, Mama, I saw a ghost in the closet.”_

_“There is no ghost in the closet,” Belladonna said firmly. She stood from the bed and marched over to the small door. “Let me show you.” She reached for the round door knob._

_“No!” Bilbo screeched, diving under his covers. He heard his mother sigh and the door clicking open._

_“Come on now, Bilbo,” Belladonna said. Bilbo peeked out from under the covers to see his mother standing beside the open door. “You see? Nothing here.” She was wrong. Why couldn’t she see? It was standing right there behind her. A tall creature with bulbous eyes and long limbs. The creature broke out into a grin, baring pointy white teeth. It raised one finger to its lips. Bilbo shuddered, his eyes wide._

_“There’s nothing in here,” Belladonna said as she shut the closet door. The creature’s grin only grew as it vanished. “Now go back to bed, darling, I’ll see you in the morning.” Bilbo couldn’t argue with his mother, too afraid of angering her. His mother kissed him atop the head then left, flicking the lights off. Bilbo found himself plunged into total black._

_Curling up, Bilbo fell into a fitful sleep. His nightmares were filled with terrors of long-limbed creatures with sharp teeth and grabbing fingers. He tossed and turned in his sleep, moaning to himself. Why wouldn’t the creature just leave him alone?_

Thump. Thump. Thump. _Bilbo’s eyes flew open at the steps moving across his wooden floor. They were heavy, as though the newcomer was wearing boots._ Thump. Thump. Thump. _The steps drew nearer. Bilbo held his breath as something leaned over him. Guttural words were muttered into his pointed ear. Finally, whoever it was drew back and the steps retreated it. Bilbo sighed a breath of relief. Only for it catch when the steps returned, this time dragging something along with it. The steps stopped by his bedside and the stranger fell onto something._

_Daring to roll over, Bilbo peeked out from under his covers. The silhouette of something – a Dwarf, it looked like – sat shadowed against the moonlight. He held a sword in his hands, the very tip of it resting against the floor. The Dwarf turned his head to look at Bilbo and Bilbo gasped. Never before had he seen such blue eyes. The Dwarf nodded to him and turned his eyes back to the closet door._

_Fingers trailed against Bilbo’s ear and the Hobbit tilted his head backward to look up. A Dwarf perched precariously on the head of his bedframe. His star-shaped hair stood out in the darkness. The Dwarf winked down at him then nodded to the foot of his bed. Bilbo looked down to see two more Dwarf seated on the railing. One had two axes strapped to his back while the other wore a funny hat._

_“Do not worry, Bilbo Baggins,” the Dwarf seated beside his bed said in a deep voice. “We will protect you tonight. Sleep well.”_

The sounds of chirping birds greeted Bilbo as he woke up. The cool morning breeze tickled through his hair, causing it to ruffle against his neck. Sighing contently to himself, Bilbo opened his eyes. Golden leaves rustled in the breeze around him. The tree’s strong branches curved outward and upward from him. Funny, he didn’t remember falling asleep in a tree. Rolling over, Bilbo looked around himself. The tree’s branches seemed to continue on forever. He could see no end to the golden leaves. Never before had he seen something so beautiful. Something fluttered past Bilbo’s eye. He turned his head to follow the small black butterfly. It flew straight up, disappearing into the branches above.

“Huh,” Bilbo said to himself. Another butterfly fluttered past his face. This one was identical to his friend, black and flying straight upward. Bilbo watched it vanish with a frown. Several seconds later another followed. Finally, he looked down to see a butterfly crawling along his arm. It fluttered its wings and floated upward past Bilbo’s nose. Another butterfly crawled out from under his gauntlet.

Eager to see more, Bilbo fumbled with the ties of his gauntlet until it fell to the ground. And then the air around him was filled with butterflies. Each black beauty flew straight up into the tree branches. Standing on trembling legs, Bilbo grabbed the tree branch above and pulled himself up. He followed the beautiful creatures through the tree branches. Something, he didn’t know what, urged him to catch one of the butterflies and keep it. Every time he grew closer to one, though, it would flutter upward.

Finally, Bilbo’s fingers clung to a flat surface. He pulled himself up into the tree fort he’d had as a child. A giggle burst from his lips at the mere sight of it. He hadn’t been up here in years. The black butterflies fluttered through the tree branches. Ducking under one, Bilbo followed them earnestly. He just _had_ to have one. The crawl was treacherous against his knees, but he could stop himself. Those butterflies were so _beautiful_.

Several yards through the crawl, Bilbo planted a hand surely against the tree branch. A _click_ reached his ears and the branch swung out from under him. He had a moment to think _this isn’t right_ before he was falling downward. His head connected with a hard surface and he saw stars.

O.o.O

Fifty-seven . . . fifty-eight . . . fifty-nine . . . sixty. Dwalin stopped his pacing long enough to add the numbers together. Seven hours. Bilbo had been gone for seven hours. And during that time the temperatures had plummeted to the point Dwalin had pulled all the blankets and jackets he could find around himself. Then the visions had started: bubbles floating around the room, gold dripping from the ceiling, silver mice running along the floor. That didn’t stop Dwalin from worrying, though. He always worried about Bilbo.

O.o.O

Bilbo groaned as his eyes fluttered open. Thankfully no bright lights shone around him, leaving him in the blissful dark. His head ached and pounded at a certain point. Sitting up, Bilbo rubbed his head. He drew his hand back to see a small butterfly sitting on his finger. It fluttered its wings before dropping to the floor beside him. A memory floated to the front of his mind. Raising his wrist to his mouth, Bilbo spoke into it.

“Bofur,” he croaked, watching another butterfly float past his head. “I’m here. I’m in the engine room.” No answer came. “Bofur?”

_“Seventy-six barrels of ale on the wall, seventy-six barrels of ale, you take one down and pass it around, you’ve got seventy-five barrels of ale on the wall.”_

_That_ wasn’t Bofur. Bilbo had never heard Balin sing so badly before. Shaking his head, Bilbo pushed himself to his feet. He’d worry about Bofur and Balin later. Right now he needed to fix the engine. The engine that was currently sitting black and cold in her cradle. Goosebumps ran up Bilbo’s arms and he ran his hands down them. They weren’t from fear, though. The engine room was freezing.

“Right, fix the engine,” Bilbo muttered to himself.

He stumbled forward to begin his inspection. Several minutes later found him leaning into the engine. He’d found the part that had jammed. Somehow one of the pipes had twisted out of place and had been forced to bend in the wrong direction by the spinning engine. No amount of tugging would pull the pipe loose, so Bilbo searched around the engine room until he found a wrench that would work. Ignoring the black butterflies, Bilbo returned to the engine. He jammed the wrench against the head of the screw and twisted. Three yanks loosened the screw enough for it to be both easier and quicker.

And then the wrench slipped. It clattered to the floor beneath the engine. Bilbo’s loud curse was interrupted by a shuddering cough. His breaths were getting harder to draw. Wiping his mouth, he crouched down and felt around for the wrench. He found it fairly quickly and returned to unscrewing the engine. The pipe came loose fairly easily. It was a simple task of finding another pipe amongst the jumble in a care Bilbo found and replacing it.  Simple being an antonym, of course. Bilbo’s fingers trembled with every move he made. His lungs shuddered with his breaths. He didn’t know how much longer he could last.

Finally, _finally,_ the pipe was in place. Bilbo stumbled along the length of the engine until he found the control panel. Tapping a few buttons, he reversed the flow of the air and turned the life support on. A warning flickered red, telling him he needed to return the oxygen pipe to the proper settings.

“In a minute,” Bilbo muttered to himself. A black butterfly fluttered past his eyes and he followed it back down to his arm. Several more fluttered down to roost on the floor of the engine room.

_“Check oxygen levels at once_ , _”_ a cool voice said. Bilbo ignored it, waiting impatiently. _“Check oxygen levels at once . . . Check oxygen levels at once.”_

“Fine,” Bilbo snapped at the machine. He tapped a few more keys to return the oxygen pipe to the proper settings. Grabbing a lever, he jerked it backward. The engine screeched in its cradle as it came to life, reaching a whir in only seconds. Bilbo breathed in a gust of fresh air that washed over him. He had successfully managed to clear the life support system of any and all debris. Wouldn’t his captain be so proud of him? Swaying slightly, Bilbo allowed the relief to flood through his veins. Black dots swarmed over his vision and he pitched forward. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

_“Bilbo!”_

_“_ Pundurith _!”_

_“Is he breathin’?”_

_“Step back, you are crowding him.”_

_“Mahal look at his head.”_

_“Look at his_ arm _!”_

_“Stay with us, Bilbo.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big time jumps in the chapter. I had give you guys (tee hee, Minnesotan saying) the impression of how much time was actually passing while Bilbo was unconscious. Fili, Nori, and Dwalin just happened to fit that part perfectly. :) I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.


	32. Nuisances and Networks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting yesterday. I would have, but then nothing came out right and our parents came to visit and I had to put an IKEA dresser together (two and a half hours, by the way) and then I had to study for an exam, which we'll all fail anyway. Also! You guys remember that sociology paper I had to write about how I feel guilty because I'm white? 15/15 yay! And my professor liked my attention getter of Heinz 57 that I used. ^^ So happy.  
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. A good long peek in to the present.

**Nuisances and Networks**

Bilbo didn’t wake up gasping or screaming this time. He didn’t bolt upright in bed, arms reaching out for a mother who wouldn’t be there. He didn’t toss and turn in terror. Instead, he slowly regained consciousness. One by one his senses came back to him, starting with his hearing.

“Do ya think he’ll wake up soon?” a worried voice asked above him. The usual jovial tone remained hidden under the loopy tones of slurred worry.

“Not if you keep poking him in the ear,” a second voice said. This one sounded clearer, the silky words running smoothly together.

“But I’m worried about him. Did ya see how deep he bit?”

“I think we all did, Bofur.”

“Poor laddie. What do ya think it’s like in his head?”

“Pounding,” Bilbo croaked.

“Bilbo!” Bofur cried happily, and Bilbo cracked his eyes open with a smile. “Yer awake!” The grinning Dwarf leaned over the head of Bilbo’s bed, his hat tipping dangerously sideways. Nori leaned in from the side, clearly not as worried about Bilbo as Bofur was. He offered Bilbo a nod and a wink in greeting.

“How long have I been out?” Bilbo asked before swallowing against his dry throat.

“Couple hours,” Bofur said, bouncing up and down where he sat. “We found ya unconscious in the engine room. Oin wanted ta take ya ta the sick bay but I told him he couldn’t.” Bilbo frowned at that and shifted his gaze to the ceiling above Bofur. Now that he thought about it, the ceiling _was_ rather high for being in the medical bay. In fact, he didn’t seem to be in any of the other rooms but for . . .

“The cargo bay,” Bilbo said. Bofur nodded happily at that. “Why the cargo bay?”

“Kili and Thorin both got hurt when the engine spat fire,” Nori said. Reaching forward, he took Bilbo’s shoulders in a careful grip and pulled him into an upright position. Bofur crawled onto the mattress Bilbo had been laid on and sat directly behind the Hobbit. He provided a support for Bilbo, something the Hobbit was thankful for. Nori lifted a cup for Bilbo and the Hobbit drank from it greedily.

“Oin figured it’d be easier to take care of all three of you if you were in the same area,” Nori continued to explain. “So we brought some mattresses down from the bedrooms and laid them out.” Bilbo paused in his drinking, thinking through all of Nori’s words. He lowered the cup from his mouth to speak.

“Kili and Thorin,” he said, and Nori hummed to show he was listening. “Are they alright?”

“See for yourself,” Nori said with a nod to Bilbo’s right. Bilbo turned his head to see Thorin and Kili laid out on mattresses. Both wore serene expressions of sleep. Kili’s head had been wrapped in gauze to hold an ice pack there. Fili laid beside his brother, his arm draped over Kili’s still frame.

“They’ll be fine,” Bofur said, running his fingers through Bilbo’s hair. “Thorin’s just had a knock ta the head and the medical mites fixed Kili up good as new.”

“Have either of them woken up yet?” Bilbo asked Nori. Bofur continued to card his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, grabbing a good amount near his ear.

“Thorin woke up for a few seconds,” Nori said. Taking Bilbo’s cup, he filled it with more water and handed it back. “But he started shouting about an attack on Orcs and Oin dosed him up with something strong. He hasn’t woken up since.”

“And Kili?” Bilbo asked. He ignored the insistent tugs at the hair beside his ear. Bofur’s fingers twitched back and forth in an unusual pattern.

“He’s been unconscious for a few hours,” Nori said, leaning back. He eyed Bofur mischievously before turning his attention back to Bilbo. “Fili told us he hit his head falling down the stairs, broke his neck saving Ori’s life.” Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock. “Don’t worry,” Nori said quickly. “Ori’s fine. Shaken up, but fine. Dori’s staying with him right now.”

“Thank Eru,” Bilbo sighed, relaxing back against Bofur. The Dwarf’s fingers left his ear and switched to the other one. The tickling actions returned.

“You were pretty brave back there,” Nori said. A red flush crept up Bilbo’s neck. “Not many Dwarves would have been willing to climb through air vents. We get a little claustrophobic.”

“I-It was nothing,” Bilbo said. Nori leveled him with an even glare to match Dori’s.

“That wasn’t nothing, Bilbo,” the thief said. “You saved our lives. Granted, it took you a while, but you saved them.”

“What _did_ take ya so lon’?” Bofur asked. Bilbo swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “Bilbo, somethin’ wron’?”

“No,” Bilbo croaked out. Clearing his throat, he tried to smile as though nothing was wrong. “I’m fine. I just passed out for a bit in the air vents.” Nori’s eyebrows rose at that and Bofur’s fingers paused for a moment.

“Ya passed out?” the engineer repeated. Bilbo nodded quickly, feeling his hair jerked with each nod.

“Bofur,” he said through gritted teeth. Bofur’s chuckles vibrated through his back. “What are you doing to my hair?”

“Nothin’,” the engineer chortled.

“Bofur,” Bilbo growled. He reached back to hit his friend but missed as Bofur leaned back. “You’re not _braiding_ it, are you?”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” Bofur said. Nori snickered, fiddling with his own braids. Bilbo wagged a finger at him.

“You’re not allowed to laugh at me,” he said.

“Why not?” Nori asked with a wicked wink.

“Because you’re not being helpful,” Bilbo said. He tried to jerk his hair from Bofur’s grip but the Dwarf held on. It was either suffer through the braiding or lose a chunk of hair. Bilbo didn’t know which was worse.

“Your hair’s gotten long enough now,” Nori pointed out. “And we Dwarves can get pretty bored when we’re high on toxins.”

“I’m not high,” Bofur countered as he continued braiding Bilbo’s hair.

“You were high as a kite when we finally got you and Balin out,” Nori said. “Oin said you had a big dose in your lungs. Who knows how long it could take for the toxins to leave you.”

“I’m not high!”

“Aye, you are.”

“Am not!”

“Can you say the alphabet backward?” Bofur blinked at that, his fingers pausing. Bilbo huffed and tugged at his hair, but it was useless. Even distracted, Bofur had a strong grip. He heard a muttering behind him. “And no reciting the alphabet forward to help you!”

“Fine,” Bofur grumbled. “Z . . . Y . . . X . . .”

“The _Sindarin_ alphabet.”

“I don’t speak Sindarin!”

“Fine, Quenya!”

And then Bofur said something that had Bilbo choking on his breath. He vaulted sideways in his laughter, only stopped by Bofur’s strong arms. The words didn’t stop, though. Bofur continued to spit filthy curses at Nori who howled with laughter. Upside down on the mattress, Bilbo could see Thorin clearly. The captain of _the Arkenstone_ was watching him through cracked eyelids, a smile on his face. Bilbo returned the smile with one of his own.

O.o.O

Fili sighed as he leaned back against the wall. Agent Smith sat on his stool, his hands on his knees as he stared at Fili in mild shock. They had been speaking for hours – seven, maybe, Fili thought – only now reaching a decent point to end his part of the story. Fili had hoped to be able to get farther, maybe even to Thranduil’s finding of Bilbo, but it was hopeless. They had talked for too long already.

Agent Smith straightened up on his stool and Fili’s eyes flicked up to him. The Man snapped the manila folder shut. He turned sad eyes on Fili.

“Who is this Attercop character?” he asked Fili slowly. Fili smirked at that.

“That’d ruin the story,” Fili said. “Sorry, you’ll have to talk to Gloin or Balin about him.”

“Bilbo seemed rather obsessed with him,” Agent Smith said. “Don’t you think?” Fili narrowed his eyes at him. He wanted nothing more than to punch the Man in that moment.

“Again, talk to Balin or Gloin. It’ll all make sense in the end.”

“Those conversations will have to wait until tomorrow,” Agent Smith said. The door to the cell opened and two guards entered. Fili tensed on his bed. “I’m sorry, Fili, but you’re being sent to a juvenile detention facility.”

“What about Kili?” Fili asked. “Will I see him before I leave?”

“You, Kili, and Ori will be traveling together,” Agent Smith said as he stood, tucking the manila folder under his arm. He nodded to the two guards. “Transfer prisoner 1-11 to the loading bay and wait for further orders.”

“Yes, sir,” the taller guard said, following the words with a salute. Agent Smith waved it away.

“Don’t hurt him too much,” the agent said. “He should cooperate with you. If he doesn’t - .” Fili leaned forward to ensure he was heard.

“Can I see Thorin?” Agent Smith paused in speaking and turned to look at Fili. He blinked in surprise. “Can I see my uncle?” The agent hesitated for a moment before he nodded slowly.

“Agent Smith,” the shorter guard warned in a thick accent.

“It’ll be fine,” Agent Smith said. “There’s nothing they can do. It’s the last time they’ll see each other for a very long time.” The shorter guard looked ready to argue but Agent Smith clapped him on the shoulder. “Do as you’re told, Zwingli. Don’t make me report you to Beilsmith again.” Zwingli huffed at that through his mask but didn’t argue anymore. Agent Smith clapped him on the shoulder one more time then left them alone in the cell with Fili.

“We’ll give you ten minutes,” Zwingli snapped at Fili. “Get up.”

Slowly, Fili stood from his bed. The guard marched forward to unlock his handcuffs, moving Fili’s wrists behind the Dwarf’s back and locking them once more. He grabbed Fili’s upper arm in a strong grip and shoved him forward. Fili obeyed the silent command with nothing more than a glare. Once in the hallway, the taller guard grabbed his other arm in a strong grip and together he and Zwingli marched him down the hall. They hadn’t gone very far down the hall when Zwingli jerked Fili to a stop. He turned the Dwarf to face the steel door.

“Ten minutes,” he hissed in reminder. “Then you’re leaving this place on a ship.” Fili gave him his best sarcastic smile.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said. Zwingli scowled at him before pressing a card against a reader. A green light flickered and the door slid open with a hiss. Fili found himself shoved unceremoniously into the cell, the door sliding shut. Thorin looked up from his seat on the cot. His eyes widened at the sight of his nephew.

“Fili,” he said, standing. Fili stepped further into the cell. His uncle met him halfway, pulling him into a hug. “Are you alright? Where is Kili?”

“They’re probably getting him now,” Fili said, his voice muffled by Thorin’s shoulder. He felt his uncle’s fingers fumbling against the handcuffs around his wrists. “They’re sending us away.” The fingers stopped and Thorin pulled back to look Fili in the eyes.

“What do you mean?” Thorin asked. “Where are they sending you?”

“To a detention facility,” Fili told him. Thorin frowned. “They’ve decided we don’t need to stay for the trial. Uncle, this’ll screw up the whole plan.”

“Aye, I know,” Thorin said. Stepping back from Fili, he began to pace the length of the cell. “Nori has already put his plan into action. Undoubtedly he will have learned of the Government’s plans. Perhaps he could get word around to everyone else.”

“What about us?” Fili said. “What do Kili, Ori, and I do? Sit around and wait for you to come save us?”

“Of course not,” Thorin said. “Fly high, higher than you ever have before. But wait to leave the nest until you are old enough.” Fili nodded slowly at the code. “Good luck, Fili, I will see you soon.”

“See you soon, Uncle,” Fili said. Thorin squeezed his shoulder and bumped their foreheads together. Fili offered him a smile before turning and kicking the door.

“I’m done in here,” he shouted. “You can take me away now.” The door slid open to reveal a scowling Zwingli. The guard looked between the Dwarves suspiciously before he grabbed Fili by the arms and dragged him forward. Looking over his shoulder, Fili caught one last glance of his uncle before the door slid shut. The look of determination on Thorin’s face gave him courage for what was about to happen.

The guards marched Fili through the halls and to an elevator. The ride down was uneventful, lights flickering through the crack in the doors. Fili listened to the ridiculous classical music and chuckled. It was just like Men to play the worst kind of music in the stupid places. Next they’d be putting computers in the restrooms.

The doors slid open and the guards shoved Fili forward. He walked obediently down another hall until they stepped through a doorway. He froze. The docking station was round, sitting at the center of the prison station. Glass walls ran along the length of the inner station. Smaller ships sank down and rose up through the ring as they came and went. Each time a great steel tube would extend and retract to their entrance doors.

“This way,” Zwingli snapped, jerking Fili out of his thoughts. He marched the Dwarf down the hall, past curious Men, and to an open door. “Williams!” A blond Man paused in the process of tapping a computer screen to turn and look at Zwingli. His eyes widened when they fell on Fili.

“Prisoner transfer,” the first guard said. Williams nodded slowly before consulting a clipboard in his hand. “Prisoner 1-11.”

“Right, of course,” Williams said. “Prisoners 1-12 and 1-13 have already arrived. Load him onto the ship and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

“Who’s your guard today?” Zwingli asked, not moving from his place beside Fili.

“Privates Beilsmith and Jones,” Williams said. Zwingli snorted at that. Fili looked between them in confusion. “What’s wrong with Beilsmith and Jones?”

“They’re immature,” Zwingli snapped. “Both of them. They’d be better off giving you guards who act their age.”

“I’ll be fine,” Williams assured the guard. He stepped aside and motioned with the clipboard. “Now do me a favor and load the prisoner onto the ship, I’ve got a time schedule to keep.” Grumbling, Zwingli obeyed. He marched Fili onto the ship to a small room. Through the glass door Fili could see Kili and Ori seated on plastic benches. Kili looked up as the glass door slid open.

“Hey,” Fili said with a nod. Kili gave him a small smile before turning his gaze back down to the floor. Ori shifted uncomfortably on his bench.

“No talking,” Zwingli snapped. Fili scoffed as his hands were uncuffed. He was shoved to sit down beside Kili. Grabbing his hands, Zwingli locked them in a new set of handcuffs. This one was connected to the floor with a length of chain. The guard knelt down to lock Fili’s ankles to the bench. Catching Ori’s eye, Fili winked to him. Finally, Zwingli straightened up and left the cell. The glass door slid shut behind him, locking with a _click_.

“Well this is nice,” Fili said, leaning back. The new handcuffs jerked at his hands.

“How far’d you get?” Kili asked his older brother.

“When Bilbo saved our lives,” Fili said. Ori peeked up at him through his bangs. “The agent’s going to talk to Balin or Gloin next.”

“I hope he talks to Gloin,” Kili snickered. “He’ll be more . . .” He trailed off as Williams stalked past. A whirring sound filled the compartment behind Fili’s head and the ship jerked forward. They were on their way. “He’ll be more imaginative with the story.”

“Kind of like Bifur?” Fili suggested, and Kili guffawed. “I heard he told the agent all kinds of lies when Bofur was translating.” Kili fell sideways in his laughter, his hands jerked by the chains. Ori smiled slightly and ducked his head again. The three Dwarves fell into a comfortable silence during which Kili tired, and failed, to calm down. Eventually he managed to stop himself and he straightened up.

“What do we do?” Ori asked softly. “Nori’s plan is going to fail.”

“Simple,” Fili said. Kili and Ori looked to him in confusion. “This.” Pursing his lips, Fili whistled the familiar cat-call tune. Kili cocked his head, his confusion only growing, but Ori brightened up. The youngest Dwarf whistled a bird call through his teeth. Kili looked between then then gave a wolf-whistle unsurely.

“And now?” Ori asked.

“We wait,” Fili said, relaxing against the wall. “They’ll come for us. They always do.”

O.o.O

_Everything was dark. He couldn’t move, his arms and legs pinned down by an unseen force. Uncomfortable sensations tickled along his scalp, originating from painful pinpricks. Movement only made it worse. Something solid jabbed him in the chest, a similar sensation running down his throat. They made him breathe, made him live at their command. Sometimes he was aware of the goings on around him. Hands would run along his scalp, tones sang behind him at obnoxious levels. The hands resituated the jabbing instruments that ran into his lungs. He didn’t know who they were and he didn’t want to. All he wanted was his freedom. He tried to form the name around the blockage in his mouth. Thorin. Thorin would save him. He always had in the past, why would he stop this time?_

_Thorin would come for him. He always did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castor tells me she loves how I blend the past and present together in the chapters and that I put Bilbo's nightmares in just the right places. I hope she's right! Otherwise I'm a bad writer. :( And I don't want that. She actually checked her closet last night before going to bed to make sure there weren't any creepy men with goggles in there. And it can be kinda hard to scare her sometimes.  
> Also, getting lots of ideas for the Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space. Per usual, Castor is helping me come up with most of them. ^^ Kudos to her.


	33. React and Reflect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breath everyone! Feel free to comment if something confuses you!
> 
> Bada bing!

**React and Reflect**

_He stood on a lone hill above the shallow valley. The ground beneath his feet had caked from years of rainless seasons. Cracks ran through the surface, flaking away to fly in the wind. There was grass on the hill. But it was yellow and crunched when he shifted. No trees or bushes grew nearby to protect the soil from eroding away. What should have been a clear blue sky was filled with roiling gray clouds. They fought for dominance over one another. But none brought the sign of rain. These lands would remain cracked and dried, the plants withering._

_Thorin turned to look over his shoulder at the shallow valley behind him. It wasn’t really a valley. It didn’t have the familiar deep shape of one. He supposed it had once been a lake of some sort, long since dried up. Now stone hills littered the ground like abandoned pebbles. They had a uniform, round shape to them; each one curving elegantly over the ground. No, not elegantly._ Sinisterly. _These did not look like pebbles or decorations of any sort, they resembled tombstones. Thorin was looking at a graveyard._

“This is what will become of the Shire System if you do not act,” _a voice echoed around Thorin. He didn’t recognize it, having never heard it before, but he could at least tell it was an Elf. She spoke in an almost breathy voice, each word holding a sincere meaning. Thorin looked around himself but found no one nearby._

_“What is this place?” he asked aloud._

“This is the Barrow Downs,” _the Elf said._ “Here Halflings await their doom by the hand of the Government.” _Thorin turned back to scan the many gray hills of stone._ “Your Halfling is here somewhere, your _Hîn ned in Giliath._ Your Child of the Stars. By saving him, Thorin Oakenshield, you will save them all.”

_“But how? The Government controls these planets. We would hardly be able to break into the System to save Bilbo alone. How can we save them all?”_

“You no longer stand alone, Thorin Oakenshield. There are others by your side who will follow you. Already they are gathering for the start of a new battle. Lead them on, Thorin Oakenshield, for the flower has begun to bloom.” _Thorin’s eyes were drawn to the sky as a small break in the clouds formed. A single ray of starlight shone down to the earth. It struck the ground at Thorin’s feet. There a small, green tendril broke the cracked ground. It curled upward until its petals unfurled into a small, white bloom._ “And remember, Thorin Oakenshield, unless someone like you cares enough, nothing will get better for these gentle folk.” _Thorin knelt down to cup the flower in his large palm._

“LIGHTS OUT!”

Thorin’s eyes snapped open at the shout. For a moment he stared dumbly at the wall across from him. Someone had scrubbed the steel clean before Thorin had been locked in the cell. It didn’t cover the amount of scratches that littered the surface, though. Clearly several prisoners before him had attempted to escape, but it had been in vain. They had most likely been incarcerated in the end.

“TIME’S UP! LIGHTS OUT!” a voice outside the door roared. Heavy footsteps marched past Thorin’s door and he straightened up. The guards were making their nightly rounds before settling down for the night. The prisoners would remain unwatched but for the video cameras in the corners until morning. The footsteps receded from Thorin’s door, making their way down the hall.

Several seconds passed before the room plunged into darkness. Thorin could hardly make out anything closer than a foot in front of him. His eyes adjusted, though, thanks to the Dwarves’ adaption to dark mines, and soon he could just barely make out the outline of his hands. A red dot blinked high in the corner of his cell. It winked every few seconds. Thorin kept his eyes glued on it, waiting impatiently. Finally, after far too much time had passed, the red dot blinked in a rapid sequence five times before going black. The cameras had been shut off. Almost immediately voices began to shout through the halls.

“Who’s telling the story?”

“Where’s Bilbo?”

“I’ve already told my part.”

“Where’s the Hobbit?”

“ _Bofur wouldn’t let me tell the story properly._ ”

“Has anyone heard of our Hobbit?”

“Enough,” Thorin roared. The voices died down, Bofur asking one last time about Bilbo’s whereabouts. “Nori, do they suspect anything?”

“Nope, not a bit,” Nori said. His voice carried up from the floor beneath Thorin’s feet. Thorin could only guess the ship’s ventilation system ran under this level. There was no other way Nori would have been able to sneak through the ship unnoticed.

“How are you doing, Nori?” Dori asked from somewhere down the way. “Are you getting enough food? What about sleep? I hope you haven’t been working double shifts again. Oin told you specifically not to do that the last time it happened.”

“Relax, _Mom,_ ” Nori snorted. “I’m fine. I sleep during the day and wander about at night. The guards don’t suspect anything.”

“Have ya found Bilbo?” Bofur asked his longtime friend.

“I’ve looked everywhere. He’s not here.”

“What about the computer room?” Dwlain said. “They have to have one of those on this ship.”

“They do. I can’t get in. Those rooms have a separate ventilation system. I’ve managed to hack into their mainframe using some tech I filched off a guard.”

“And?”

“No sign of Bilbo. He’s not anywhere on this ship.”

“Then where is he?” Bofur asked, his voice strained with worry. Thorin stared at his hands in the dark. Soft words echoed through his mind.

_“This is the Barrow Downs. Here Halflings await their doom by the hand of the Government.”_

“He is at the Barrow Downs,” Thorin said softly.

“ _What_?” Bifur shouted from down the hall.

“What did you say, laddie?” Gloin asked.

“The Barrow Downs,” Thorin repeated, raising his voice. “They have taken Bilbo to the Barrow Downs.”

“But that’s a month’s journey by ship,” Bombur cried out. “And they’d have to cross through the Khazad System.”

“They’ve got ships that can travel that distance in less than a week,” Bofur told his brother. “They’d have Bilbo there no time.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that,” Nori said, an accusing note in his voice. “Where did you?”

“A guard,” Thorin lied. “They were talking about it while they passed my door this morning.”

“Thorin, what do we do?” Balin asked. “We have no hope of facing the Government alone.”

“We are not alone. We have allies outside these walls. Fili, Kili, and Ori are being moved. Their _Eagles_ should be able to save them. Once away, they should be able to gather armies.”

“No need for that,” Nori said. “I managed to contact Tauriel through the mainframe. She’s gotten a hold of Dain. He’s called on the _U’zugh Khazad_.” Thorin sucked in a breath at that. It was Dori who voiced his surprise.

“He’s called on the military? What does Dain plan to do, storm the System?”

“That’s the idea.”

“We need to get out of here,” Thorin said. Standing from his cot, he began to pace the cell. His footsteps echoed off the steel walls. They sounded hollow in the small room. “Nori, how long do you need until he we can escape?”

“Two more days. I’ve only just figured out how to hack into the mainframe. It’ll take some time to drop the defenses enough for _the Eagles_ to get through, even with their help.”

“We have two days before the trail,” Balin said. “Gloin and I still need to tell our parts of the story.”

“Aye, we can keep that Agent distracted long enough for you to work.”

“Do that,” Thorin ordered. “The rest of you, prepare to leave this prison the moment we get the chance. We are going after our Nadanu thatûr.”

O.o.O

They came for Gloin the next morning. He had just finished off his weak coffee from breakfast when the guards marched into the cell. They ordered him up against the wall and handcuffed him before manhandling him down the hall to an interrogation room. There they unlocked his cuffs and sent the chain through a d-ring before cuffing him again. Gloin waited patiently for only a few minutes before the door opened.

Something had caused the agent to forgo the tie and jacket this time. Instead he wore a simple pair of black dress pants with a white, collared shirt. A two-headed black eagle had been embroidered into the left breast pocket of the shirt. Gloin didn’t know what the symbol meant, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was leading the agent on long enough for Nori to get them all out. Bilbo needed them.

The agent, his eyes focused on a manila folder in his hands, strode across the room and seated himself in a steel chair. His dark hair had been slicked back and Gloin found himself staring at a shiny scalp. Beneath the dark, shiny mass of hair he could just barely make out a scar.

“So, Gloin son of Groin,” Agent Smith finally said, looking up from the paperwork. Gloin would have crossed his arms if he could have. This Man was already getting on his nerves. “Your files says you used to be a smith.”

“Aye, what about it?” Gloin asked gruffly. Agent Smith slipped a sheet of paper from the folder and flipped it for Gloin to read. The Dwarf skimmed it briefly before sitting back. The Agent was right. His file stated he had six months of experience in the forge before he left to study accounting at the local university.

“What caused you to leave your ambition? Your brother told me you had an accident at the smith before he went to study medicine?” Gloin sighed, resigning himself to regaling history before continuing on with the story.

“Aye,” he said. “I left the smith after my accident.” Agent Smith leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Gloin gave him his best serious glare. “But it was for his own good.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Have you ever seen your siblings with post-traumatic stress disorder? Have you ever watched them descend into madness and think there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Not any of my siblings, no. I only have one sister and she’s younger than I am. But I did see my wife go through that. She can’t watch movies with explosives in them anymore. She shoots the television.”

“Alright, so you know a little bit. My older brother returned from war with PTSD. I did what I could for him, but work kept me away for too long. Oin was going mad with nothing to do. So I planned an accident.”

“Was this the accident Oin told me about?”

“The one with the sword?”

“Yes.”

“Then aye, that’s the one. I planned for about a month before I made my move. I made sure the foreman would call Oin if anything happened to me and offered to mend a sword when a customer came in. All it took was one slip of the hammer and . . . I went into medical shock when it sliced my tendons.”

“They sent you to the hospital and called Oin?” Agent Smith guessed, and Gloin nodded.

“Aye, I woke up in the hospital with Oin hovering over me. He said he’d decided to study medicine on Rivendell. He’d be gone for a few years but he’d come back.”

“And what happened to you?”

“I had to go through therapy,” Gloin said. “Not even Dwarves can manage their hands well after their tendons are cut.” Flipping his left hand over, he closed his fingers into a fist. His fingertips just barely brushed his palm. “They stitched the tendons back together and sent through electroshock therapy, but I’ll never be able to close my hand or control it well enough again. I can hold a sword just fine, but not a hammer anymore.”

“And that’s why you went into accounting?”

“Aye, that’s why. Any other questions about my personal life.”

“Yes, actually, it’s about your wife and son. Gimli’s about Ori’s age now, isn’t he?”

“Ten years younger.”

“Why did you leave them on the Blue Mountains to work for Thorin? Don’t you miss them?”

“Like crazy,” Gloin said. “I miss Neoma yelling at me to wake up for breakfast and Gimli handing me my cup of coffee every morning, but I did it for Oin. Thorin offered him a job as medic on his ship and Oin asked him to allow me to come along. I went because Oin’s my brother, he’s family. And where I come from, you don’t abandon family.”

“I think I’ve heard that before from one of your crewmembers.”

“You could say it’s our motto. Neoma, Gimli, and I keep in touch. We chat together through the Vein. Bombur does the same thing, so do Fili and Kili. They call their mother once a month with the agreement.”

“And Neoma doesn’t mind you traveling?”

“I’ve orders to call once a week and visit once a month. She was just tickled when she heard about Bilbo, so much that she forgave me for not calling her in months. Is that enough information for you or are you going to pry further?”

“We’re just trying to learn as much as we can about you and your crew,” Agent Smith said as he returned the piece of paper back to the folder. “Now, onto Bilbo Baggins. How well did you know him while he was on your ship?”

“We spoke a few times when he was feeling down about himself. After the events with the engine blowing, though, he didn’t really trust me very much.”

“Why not?” Agent Smith asked curiously.

“Because I helped Thorin and Dwalin pin him down. Bilbo didn’t sleep after his time in the air vents. We didn’t actually know what had happened up there, but we could guess that it was pretty bad. Well, Bilbo thought he was being clever. He kept trying to hide that he wasn’t sleeping at night.”

“Dwalin noticed?”

“Aye, he asked Oin to give him something to help Bilbo sleep. Bilbo refused the first night, and Thorin and I had to pin him down while Dwalin gave him the shot. He can be a nasty little biter when he wants to. He threw bits and bogs at the three of us for days afterward. And we kept doing it every night until he eventually gave in to Dwalin.”

“The ship must have been low on fuel, what with the engine blowing out and what not.”

“It was,” Gloin agreed. “We were too low, in fact, that Fili refused to fly anywhere until we knew there was a station nearby. On the fourth day Thorin sent Dwalin and Nori out in _Eagles_ to scout around. They found a Government space station nearby.” Agent Smith shuffled through a few papers until he found the one he was looking for. He scanned it over quickly then nodded.

“This is where we are able to pick up your trail,” he said. “The Khazad Space Station of the Greenwood reports you landed there on the nineteenth of October.”

“By your standards, maybe. The Khazad Calendar says we arrived there on the third, sixteen days before Durin’s Day.”

“Either way, you landed on the Space Station for supplies and rations but your ship was still docked there when you left.”

“That wasn’t our fault. We had just barely made it to the station before we ran out of fuel . . .”


	34. Weary and Witty

**Weary and Witty**

Bilbo swore colorfully when he lurched forward head over heels. He, Bofur, and Nori had been playing a strange Dwarf game. They crouched down, each with a rubber ball in hand, and they had to toss the balls back and forth between each other, all while bouncing up and down on their heels and singing a ridiculous ditty. Bilbo had given up on the song after the first four tries. Bofur sang too quickly for him to understand the words. But now . . . Bilbo had just been reaching forward to catch the ball Nori had tossed to him when the ship had shuddered. The movement sent him flying head over heels, landing hard on his back hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs.

“You alright there, Bilbo?” Bofur asked from his place on his back. Only Nori out of the three of them had managed to keep his feet. Bilbo blamed it on the thief’s experience. Bilbo didn’t answer as he continued to swear in Hobbitish.

“Must be some pretty strong stuff he’s saying,” Nori commented to Bofur as the engineer sat up. Bofur nodded eagerly in agreement. Sending them both a glare, Bilbo aimed a kick at the thief who dodged it. He then did the one thing that would have even shocked his mother. Closing his fist but for his pointer and pinkie fingers, he pressed them against his eyebrows and drove them up along his forehead.

“BILBO BAGGINS!” Nori leapt in surprise at his older brother’s roar and Bofur fell backward again. Bilbo’s eyes widened at the sight of Dori standing on the gangway of the cargo bay. He hadn’t exactly been counting on Dori to see the hand sign. Only that Dwarf would have known what it meant. “If I _ever_ see you make that sign again I will beat you with a belt.” Bilbo hunched his shoulders forward, trying to shrink in on himself.

“That’s a little harsh just for a hand sign,” Bofur commented. Dori stomped down the stairs and Bilbo had half a mind to bolt for his safe place. Nori continued to look between his brother and friend in confusion.

“Oh not by these standards,” Dori hissed out. And before Bilbo to make up his mind to run, he had the very tip of Bilbo’s ear pinched between two fingers nails. Sharp pain like that of a needle scorched through Bilbo’s nervous system and he squealed, scrabbling at Dori’s hand. The Dwarf refused to relinquish his hold. “Now apologize to Nori, Bilbo.”

“He deserved it,” Bilbo protested, squealing once more when the fingernails dug in. “Let me go! I’m not a child!”

“I will treat you like a child until you learn to behave. Now apologize.”

“But what’s it mean?” Bofur asked.

“Let him go, Dori,” Nori said. “We were just having fun.”

“‘Having fun’ does not excuse his actions.”

“But what’s it mean?”

“ _Let me go!_ ”

“Making this hand gesture,” Dori said as he exhibited the sign of two fingers up his brow. “Is the Hobbit equivalent of this.” He proceeded to fold down his middle finger and press it along the ridge of his nose. His other fingers were left to splay across his forehead. Bofur’s eyes widened and he looked to Bilbo, aghast. Nori just shrugged.

“So? I do that behind your back all the time.”

“Yes, well, it’s rude. And it shouldn’t be done.”

“Let me go,” Bilbo said again. He tried to twist his ear out of Dori’s grip but to no avail. The Dwarf simply switched to the other ear. A fresh wave of needling pain ran down Bilbo’s spin and he shuddered.

“Not until you apologize.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“You better mean that, Bilbo Baggins, or I _will_ belt you.”

“I mean it! I mean it!”

“Lay off him, Dori,” Nori said in a bored voice. Bofur hadn’t found his yet, his mouth hanging open in horror. Dori snorted and released the Hobbit, giving him a small shove forward. Bilbo stumbled and pitched forward. Nori caught the back of his shirt just before he hit the ground.

“I will be telling Thorin about this,” Dori said to Bilbo’s back. Bilbo scowled at the floor. No one had threatened to belt him since he had been a faunling. And even then that had only been once, done by his mother. The Dwarf stomped away in a huff, leaving Nori to haul Bilbo upright.

“Ya know a bad hand sign?” Bofur asked Bilbo softly. Bilbo straightened his shirt, his vest having been far too torn for repairs, and tried to regain his dignity.

“Ferumbras taught it to me when I was younger,” he said. “I only used it once on Lobelia Bracegirdle. My mother whipped me with a belt for that.”

“Don’t worry,” Nori told Bilbo, resting an arm on the Hobbit’s head. “I do that sort of stuff all the time and Dori still beats me for it.” Bilbo shoved his arm off but Nori just replaced it.

“Except they never seem to work,” Bofur pointed out. Nori snorted at that, shaking his head. He perked up at the sound of Thorin’s voice carrying down the hall.

“I told you to be careful.”

“We were careful, Thorin,” Fili argued. “But we don’t have any sensors to tell us when to stop.”

“You are experienced enough to know without sensors. Next time, don’t let Kili distract you.”

“I resent that!”

“Shut up, Kili, you’re not helping.”

“Everything alright,” Nori called up their captain. Thorin shot him a dirty look then did a double-take at the sight of Bilbo being used as an armrest.

“He is a guest on this ship, not a piece of furniture,” the captain told Nori. “Do not treat him as such.” Straightening up, Nori gave him a mock bow. Thorin turned back to continue his conversation with his nephews only to find them missing. They had split up and run down the gangway while he’d been distracted. Together, mirroring each other’s moves, they raced down the length of the cargo bay and slid down the railings to the lower levels. Thorin scowled as Kili straightened up from a spectacular landing.

“Be careful, Kili,” Dori scolded the younger Dwarf. “Oin told you to avoid strenuous activity. Your neck is still tender.”

“I’m fine,” Kili said with a wave of his hand. “Besides, that’s hardly strenuous.”

“Told you, mother hen,” Nori whispered in Bilbo’s ear. He winked when Bilbo turned to look at him.

“Come on, let’s have another go,” Bofur said, tossing rubber balls to each of his friends. Fili turned and, seeing them, lit up excitedly.

“Are you playing Grenade? Can I join?”

“I want to play too!” Kili said, waving his hand eagerly. Dori glowered at both pilots before storming over to Thorin. He began muttering in a low voice.

“Wait, this game is called Grenade?” Bilbo asked, his eyes widening. “What kind of game is that for children?”

“It’s called Stoners for the younger kids,” Fili said as he and his brother joined their group. Bofur reached into a small bag and withdrew two more rubber balls for them. Bilbo rolled his own ball between his hands, unsure if he wanted to play anymore.

“Besides, it’s fun,” Kili said. “Especially when you play Extreme Stoners.”

“What’s . . . ‘Extreme’?” Bilbo asked unsurely. Fili and Kili shared mischievous looks. Bofur scratched his chin, as though wondering if this was a good idea.

“Come here,” Kili said, crouching down. The three Dwarves joined him in a pentagon shape, leaving one spot open for Bilbo. They turned to him expectantly. Bilbo hesitated but sighed in resignation when Bofur wiggled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture. Shuffling over, Bilbo crouched down on his haunches.

“Here we go,” Kili said before he started chanting along with the rest of the Dwarves. The five of them began to toss the balls between each other.

_“Boulders rolling down the hill,_

_Pebbles falling round you all,_

_These stones they could kill,_

_Better run and start the call.”_

Bilbo blanched at the words as he caught a ball tossed to him by Nori who caught Kili’s who caught Bofur’s who caught Fili’s who caught Bilbo’s. It was a never-ending circuit until someone dropped their ball.

_“Stoners, stoners, see them coming?_

_Little Goblins playing their games,_

_The boulders fall with great rumbling,_

_Stoners, stoners, they’re to blame.”_

Kili and Fili chanted happily, tossing their balls to Nori and Bilbo. The words wound round and started again. Bilbo was starting to wonder who thought of this diabolical game. And then he found out what ‘Extreme’ meant. It was he who dropped his ball first. Normally Nori would have howled with laughter, Bofur cuffing Bilbo on his shoulder. Not this time, though. This time Fili and Kili launched themselves at Bilbo, knocking him to the ground.

“STONED!” they shouted gleefully. Kili’s fingers danced along Bilbo’s sides and Bilbo squealed with laughter, his legs kicking out under Fili.

“Hey, you think his feet are ticklish?” Fili asked Kili wickedly.

“Let’s find out,” Nori offered, standing from his crouched position. Bofur had fallen over in his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes.

“No,” Bilbo gasped out, even as Fili pinned his ankles down with his knees. “Stop.”

“Gotta say uncle,” Kili teased as he continued to tickle Bilbo’s sides.

“Nev-ER!” The word ended in a high squeal when Nori ran a fingernail up the sole of his foot. Bilbo screeched in both surprise and laughter at the strange sensation running through his legs and spine. Nori continued to tickle him, his nimble fingers running along Bilbo’s toes. Bilbo squealed and bucked, trying to throw the Dwarves off him.

“Stop!”

“Here, let me help,” Bofur said, finally managing to contain himself. Bilbo squealed out a ‘no!’ but Nori shifted over to allow Bofur room. The engineer eagerly ran his nail up Bilbo’s soles. His fingers were even worse. While Nori’s fingers knew their way around feather-light touches, Bofur’s knew how to handle any problem. He deftly found ever ticklish spot on Bilbo’s foot.

“Going-to-pee!” Bilbo gasped out. Kili moved his fingers upward toward his armpits, the ticklish sensations increasing. Fili dug his fingers lightly into Bilbo’s calves. It was all too much for the poor Hobbit and he gave a great laughing squeal. His arms flailed uncontrollably. One caught Kili on the nose and the Dwarf fell back on his brother in surprise. It was a domino effect. Kili tumbled into Fili who pitched forward into Nori who fell sideways into Bofur who crumpled to the floor laughing. All four Dwarves ended up falling off Bilbo and into a dog pile. The Hobbit managed to crawl away, finally free of the torture. Bilbo collapsed to the floor in a gasping heap. He opened his watery eyes to see a familiar pair of boots standing before him. Rolling over, he saw Thorin looking down at him with humor in his eyes. Bilbo’s chest heaved with his struggles to breathe. Somewhere not far away his four Dwarf friends were cursing as they tried to untangle themselves.

“Having fun?” Thorin asked.

“Don’t like you right now,” Bilbo said, pointing a finger at Thorin. “You’re lucky I don’t have any stones with me.”

“Here’s one!” A ball flew through the air and landed neatly on Bilbo’s stomach. He wrapped his fingers around it. Thorin’s eyes widened slightly. Bilbo gave him a wicked grin.

“Stoned!” Even upside down he had a dangerous aim. The ball ricocheted off Thorin’s forehead and struck Dwalin on the head just as the taller Dwarf stepped off the bottom step. He fell backward cursing, a hand clapped to his bald head. “Oops. Didn’t mean to do that . . . Never mind, I did. I don’t like you right now either.” Dwalin glared at him as he shoved himself upright from the stairs. Ori looked between the Dwarf and Hobbit in growing worry from behind the warrior.

“Up you get, Bilbo,” Thorin said, leaning down. He hooked his hands under Bilbo’s armpits and dragged him to his feet. Bilbo remained limp the entire time, glaring at the captain of the ship, until he was set to stand alone. He swayed back and forth uncertainly. Not from dizziness or exhaustion, just out of pure spite. He still wasn’t happy with Gloin, Dwalin, or Thorin yet.

“Lose the attitude, Bilbo, or I will set Dori on you,” Thorin warned. Bilbo wrinkled his nose in distaste and stuck his tongue out at the Dwarf. “I mean it. I will not hesitate to allow Dori to belt you.”

“Like I haven’t been belted before.”

“Bilbo,” Bofur said in a soft warning voice. Bilbo peeked over his shoulder to see his four friends on their feet. Kili shook his head ever so slightly in an indication to stop. Bilbo huffed but stepped back from Thorin, giving in. Thorin nodded. The captain turned to address his entire crew.

“We have reached a Government Space Station,” he said. “It is unmanned, so Bilbo can wander around if he likes. Dwalin, you are in charge of him. Bofur, Bifur, get the ship filled on fuel. The rest of you may fill up on food and shower if you would like.” Bilbo gaped at Thorin as the insufferable Dwarf marched to the cargo bay’s smaller door. He wrenched it open just in time for Kili and Fili to leap past Bilbo and out the door with great whoops of joy.

“H-He can’t do that,” Bilbo said, pointing in Thorin’s general direction. “I’m not a child.” Bofur clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. Nori at least paused to speak to their friend.

“Don’t take it too hard, Bilbo,” he said. “Thorin’s just being bossy again. Besides, he’s right. You have an attitude.” Pausing to check Dori wasn’t looking, he braced his middle finger along his nose and splayed his fingers against his forehead, his tongue sticking out. Bilbo swung out at him and missed as the thief danced away on light feet.

“I think you dropped this.” A rubber ball bounced off the side of Bilbo’s head. Bilbo allowed it to roll away as he glared at Dwalin. The Dwarf didn’t seem fazed by his directed anger in any way. He just threw an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and began to lead him away.

“Come on,” he said. “Thorin’s put me in charge of food.” Bilbo turned his head away, intent on ignoring the Dwarf, but allowed himself to be led off the ship. His eyes flicking to the corner of his eye, he froze. His eyes widened in shock.

He had been expecting a hanger of some sort, maybe the walls to be a pristine gray with pictures hung on them. Pictures with words underneath them saying things like “Best Pilot of the Year” And “Killed 342 Orcs”. There were no pictures. The walls were blank, void of any color whatsoever. They were nothing more than pristine white walls that rose high above Bilbo’s height, clearly made for Men and not Dwarves or Hobbits. Fluorescent lights lit the high ceiling. One or two had blown a fuse in their lifetime while others flickered, casting the hall into dim shadows.

“Come on,” Dwalin urged, his arm still around Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo stepped forward slowly as he followed Dwalin’s silent command to move. His eyes trailed over the flickering lights and pristine walls. Up close he could make out the chips in the paint and cracks along the walls’ surfaces. The floor had been formed from a steel, cold to the touch of Bilbo’s soles.

“Where are we going?” he asked Dwalin softly. They continued on down the hall, taking the first turn they came across. Dwalin seemed to know just where they were heading to.

“The disbursement center.”

“A-And what’s that?” They took another turn. This time the walls were lined with sliding doors. None had any words on them. Bilbo thought he could hear someone singing behind one of them. Steam hissed out from under the seam of the floor.

“The Government provides monthly rations to mercenary ships,” Dwalin explained. “It’s their way of keepin’ a census of all pilots outside. The food’s terrible, though.”

“Then why do you eat it?”

“Because the last time we didn’t pick up rations the Government stocked our kitchens full with them. Bombur threw a temper tantrum for a week just because it tasted bad. It’s nothin’ more than smoked meat and dried fruit. There’s no taste to it.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said before falling quiet. Dwalin glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. Bilbo scowled, giving him his best warning look.

“Bilbo . . .”

“Don’t you dare start with me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not sleepin’ on your own. We’re just tryin’ to help.”

“By doping me every time I have a nightmare?” Dwalin stopped walking and turned, moving his arm to clap a hand on Bilbo’s shoulders. He leveled Bilbo with a severe look. Bilbo only narrowed his eyes. He knew what was coming.

“Bilbo, you’re nightmares are gettin’ worse. Nothin’ I do helps. You’ve bitten through leather twice now. Oin had to stitch up your arm.”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo argued, shrugging Dwalin’s hand off his shoulder. The Dwarf just replaced it and clapped his free hand on Bilbo’s other shoulder.

“What happened up in those vents? You were up there for a lon’ time.”

“I said nothing. Can’t you just drop it?”

“I’m just trying to - .”

“If you say help one more time, so help me I will skewer you on my sword.”

“What, this thin’?” Dwalin asked as he released one of Bilbo’s shoulders to reach behind him. He pulled the small sword from his boot and offered it out to Bilbo. “You left it in the room. Never forget your weapon when you’re goin’ into unfamiliar territory.” Bilbo accepted the sword from the warrior, albeit begrudgingly. “Bilbo, you’ve been talkin’ in your sleep. Nori knew what you were talkin’ about. He told me so.”

“Well _I_ don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’d appreciate it if you would just. Drop. It.”

“I’m not droppin’ anythin’ until you tell me what’s goin’ on in your nightmares. What’s got you so scared?”

“ _Nothing_! Why can’t you just leave me alo - .” And then Dwalin was suddenly in his face, his nose inches from Bilbo’s.

“ATTERCOP!” The roar sent ice through Bilbo’s veins. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest. He knew that word. It haunted his nightmares and dogged his footsteps through the shadows. Dwalin drew back from Bilbo, his own chest heaving not from exhaustion but from the restraint of yelling more. His words were strained as he continued.

“He’s a black-market dealer, Nori told me so. Said he doesn’t abandon his prey.” Bilbo trembled under Dwalin’s touch, trying to will himself to breathe again. The word still bounced through his skull. “Bilbo, say somethin’, please. I want to help.”

“I-I don’t know him,” Bilbo said in a shaking voice. Turning his gaze, he found Dwalin watching him with a tense look. Sorrow and yearning filled the Dwarf’s eyes. “He didn’t attack the ship I was on, his . . . crew did it. B-But they said . . .” Bilbo shook his head and shut his eyes tight, trying to cleanse his mind of the memory. Dwalin’s hands tightened on his shoulders.

“What did they say, Bilbo?”

“A-Attercop will be happy with this one.” If possible, the hands tightened even more. Dwlain sucked in a breath. Cautiously, Bilbo looked back at him. The Dwarf held a guarded look, now, as though calculating the risk of making a move. “What does he want with me?” Bilbo asked, his lip trembling.

“I don’t know,” Dwlain said softly. He leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “But we’re not lettin’ him get you, not even close.” Bilbo huffed, a watery smile spreading across his face. “Now let’s go get that food before Thorin gets mad at us.”


	35. Showers and Shocks

**Showers and Shocks**

With the ship filled on fuel and Bombur in the kitchen, Bofur had decided there was only one thing on the entire Space Station that tickled his fancy: a hot shower.

_“So, the cat on the fiddle_

_Played hey-diddle-diddle,_

_A jig that would wake the dead,_

_And up and down he quickened his tune,_

_While the landlord shook the Man on the Moon,_

_‘It’s after three’ he said!”_

Bofur’s words bounced off the ceramic tiles of the dimly-lit shower room. The hot water pounded down on his head. It soaked his hair, making it mat and curl around his shoulders. His hair had always been thick and uncontrollable from the day he had been born. Sometimes Bifur offered to help braid or comb his hair, but that usually never ended well.

Bofur paused in his singing – a song Bilbo had taught him earlier – at the sound of the door hissing open. His fingers remained twisted in his hair, shampoo bubbling out. A shadow passed by the curtain and Bofur followed it with his eyes. Whoever it was had unbraided their hair. He couldn’t make them out beyond their stout shape and long nose. It could have been anyone.

Whoever it was – certainly a Dwarf, Bilbo wasn’t that muscular – took the shower stall next to Bofur’s. The curtain drew back with a _shing_ of rings on metal. They turned the knob and almost immediately steam begin to rise from the hot water. Bofur resumed scrubbing his hair thick with shampoo.

Every Space Station, unmanned or no, came equipped with the necessities of life: showers, cafeterias, libraries, beds . . . the list went on and on. Travelers were not expected to remain in the lodgings for more than a week, as their home was technically their ship, but they could take time to get clean. The Government made sure to leave the Stations fully stocked with shampoos, conditioners, and soaps for the showers. Bofur, like any other sane Dwarf, was intent on taking full advantage of that fact. And the fact of free coffee and muffins in the cafeteria.

“Your _Amad_ ever tell you you can’t carry a tune?” Bofur’s fingers froze again, this time as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He glared at the plastic wall separating the shower. There was perhaps a foot or more of bare space between both the ceiling and the floor of the shower room.

“Neither can ya, Nori,” he countered. Nori snorted and Bofur heard the sound of water splashing on the tiles of the shower floor and walls. Nori’s hair was finer than Bofur’s. Water just ran down it like a creek down smooth stones. Bofur wouldn’t say he was jealous, but . . . He would give anything to be able to wake up one morning and _not_ have to brush the snarls from his hair.

“At least I can hit the pitch range.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?”

“You were four octaves off.”

“And since when do ya know anythin’ about music?” Bofur demanded, planting his hands on his hips. Underneath the divider, he could see Nori’s feet turning to face him. Soap bubbles pooled around the other Dwarf as he washed his hair.

“Dori cultured me until I could tell the difference between a C-minor and a C-major.”

“Well it doesn’t matter in the mines,” Bofur said. He grabbed a bottle of conditioner and upended it in his hand. It smelled of apples. He’d have to keep this away from Bifur, lest his cousin decided to try eating it. Vigorously running the conditioner through his hair, Bofur continued speaking. “We can sing ‘Hi-Ho’ for all we want in the mines, and no one cares.” Nori didn’t speak for a few moments and Bofur was sure he had won the argument. Until his friend broke out laughing.

“No way! You guys actually sing that down in the mines? Isn’t that song from some musical in the eighteenth century?”

“Twentieth,” Bofur corrected. The conditioner caused his hair to hang in lank strips around his face. “And it was a kid’s movie.” Nori’s laughing on got worse. His howls bounced off the walls of the shower room. Scowling, Bofur stepped out of his stream of water. He turned the handle ninety degrees, caught the luke-warm water in cupped hands, and threw it over the divider. Nori’s howling laughter turned to screams of surprise and Bofur doubled over laughing. He didn’t care that the stream of water pounding against his back gave him gooseflesh. Hearing Nori swear was enough.

Suddenly his shower curtain was wrenched to the side. Nori stood there, completely naked, in all his dripping glory. He wore a mask of fury on his face. Bofur’s laughs caught in his throat. He knew that look. It was the look everyone on the ship tried their hardest to avoid, especially if Nori caught them in a corner. Like a shower, for example.

“Mahal damn you, Bofur,” Nori seethed. He stepped into the shower and Bofur sank back against the cold tile wall. “You’re going to regret that.”

“It was just a joke,” Bofur tried, raising his hands in defense. Nori continued to advance on him, his hands outstretched.

“Joke or no, you shouldn’t have done that.” Nori grabbed his upper arms in a terrifyingly strong grip. Sometimes Bofur forgot the immense strength ran through the Ri family. Nori gave him a wicked grin before reaching behind Bofur and turning the handle completely to the left. The water under Bofur’s toes turned icy.

“Please,” Bofur choked out, trying to twist out of his friend’s grasp. “Just a joke. Let it go.”

“Not. Going. To. Happen,” Nori said slowly before his grin to a Cheshire level. He shoved Bofur under the icy torrent of water. It struck Bofur like a bucket of ice water, freezing him to the bone. He howled and thrashed against Nori’s grip. His friend held him directly under the stream of water.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Nori sang.

“Stop!” Bofur shouted helplessly. Already his teeth were chattering against the cold. Water filled his mouth and he spat aside before resuming struggles. “I don’t like it!”

“You’re not supposed to!”

“I don’t like it! I don’t like it!” Bofur tried his hardest to throw Nori off him but his friend refused to let go. He just pushed Bofur further under the water. Neither of them heard the hiss of the door sliding open.

“What in Mahal’s name is going on in here?” Suddenly Nori was wrenched off Bofur with an undignified squawk. Bofur stumbled out from under the spigot shuddering. He ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to get the feeling back into them.

“Would you let me go?”

“What were you thinking? He could have caught his death.”

“It was just a bit of fun.”

Bofur looked up, his teeth chattering in his jaw, to see Dori holding his younger brother by fistfuls of hair. Ori hovered behind his eldest brother, wringing his hands together. Bofur tried to smile when he looked over at him, but his lips were too numb.

“Look at him, he’s shivering.”

“He’s – ow! – fine!” Nori yelped when Dori twisted his hair

“His lips are blue!”

“Let me go!”

“Bofur, be a dear and move, would you? Ori, help him warm up.” Bofur stepped out of the shower beside Ori. Together they watched as Dori dragged Nori toward he shower. Nori dug his heels into the tiled floor, slipping along with the shoves.

“You can’t be serious!”

“It’s either this or the belt, and the belt never seems to work.”

“I’m an adult!”

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from acting like a child.”

“You can’t do this to ME!” Nori squealed in protest when Dori shoved him under the freezing water. “Stop! STOP!” Bofur grinned at his friend’s discomfort, only turning away when Ori tugged at his arm.

“Come on, Bofur, Nori’s shower should still be warm.” Bofur allowed the youngest Dwarf of the crew to lead him to Nori’s open shower. He stepped under the hot jet of water, relishing in both the warmth and the squawks of his friend.

O.o.O

“As a registered crew of the Government, we are required to check in with the Government on an annual basis,” Thorin explained to his youngest nephews as he pressed his thumb to the blue screen. It scanned his print then flashed green. A menu popped into view, offering Thorin various choices. “This can be done from the ship’s Vein, but at six of your check-ins need to be completed on a Station.” He turned to see Kili fingering the string of his bow, his attention drawn to a wall. “Kili, pay attention!”

“But this is so boring,” Kili moaned, letting his hand fall to his side. His bow clattered to the floor. “Why isn’t Fili here instead of me?”

“Because Fili has already seen this,” Thorin snapped. “I showed him on the last Station we visited, now it is your turn. Someday this will be your job.” Kili huffed but stepped up to stand beside his uncle. Thorin turned back to the screen. “Now pay attention. You have three options here: update crew member, ship status, or cargo status.”

“Are we adding Bilbo to the crew?” Kili asked excitedly. At Thorin’s meaningful glare, he wilted. “Right, Hobbit. Forgot for a moment. What are we doing, then?”

“Updating the cargo,” Thorin said, pressing the menu on the screen. The three words swiped left to make way for another list. He pressed _Medicine-Blue Mountains_. The title expanded with the applied date, weight of cargo, and expected delivery date. “Every legal cargo move we make has to be reported to the Government.”

“Didn’t we make that delivery last November?”

“Aye.”

“Then shouldn’t we have updated sooner.” Thorin sighed to himself at his nephew’s pestering questions.

“We have only checked in at a Station two times. These next four months must be updated directly through a Station’s mainframe.”

“But why didn’t we update through the Vein sooner? That was almost a year ago.” Thorin leveled him with a glare. “You forgot, didn’t you?” Kili laughed, clutching his stomach. “You forgot to tell the Government.”

“I have had too many things on my mind lately, so stop laughing.” Ignoring his nephew’s laughter, he turned back to the screen and pressed _update_. Three options came up: _delayed_ , _delivered_ , and _dropped._ He chose the second option and punched in the date of the previous December when they had delivered the medicine. “It does not technically matter when you update your delivery, just so much as it matches up with the date the receiver enters into the mainframe.”

“Because you forgot.”

“If you say that one more time I swear I will leave you on this Station for someone else to find.” Kili sobered up at that immediately. The crew had learned rather quickly Thorin meant it when he said things like that. Bofur had nearly gone crazy with terror when he had been abandoned on Archet for three months after he had angered Thorin. In his defense, he hadn’t known Thorin was deathly allergic to walnuts or morphine. Both incidents had ended with Oin intervening at the last minute and Bofur retreating to his room for safety. Until he had been left on Arhcet to fend for himself.

“I’ll be good,” Kili said. “Are we done with this?”

“Aye, but I need your help in adding Bilbo to the crew as a guest.”

“But I thought we couldn’t do that because he’s a Hobbit?”

“We are adding him as a Man, perhaps a child due to his height.”

“Ooh, fun!” Kili said. “Can I do it?” Chuckling at his nephew’s eagerness, Thorin brought up the specs for adding a guest to the crew. He stepped aside to allow Kili to play with the screen.

“And how is everything going down here?” Thorin turned to see Balin approaching them from down the hall.

“Fine,” Thorin told his first-mate. “Kili and I are adding Bilbo as a guest to the crew.”

“With a pseudonym!” Thorin looked over his shoulder at Kili’s proclamation. His nephew hadn’t turned from pressing buttons, apparently choosing an age for their ‘guest’. He turned back to see Balin with a quirked eyebrow.

“I do not want the Government questioning us if they scan us for heat signatures,” Thorin said. “Chances are they will simply ignore us if they read thirteen Dwarves and a child as their logbook says it should be.”

“I can only hope you are right,” Balin said with a shake of his head. He planted his hands on his hips. “Only a day and a half to travel around the Woodland Realm and we will see Erebor once more.”

“Erebor in all her glory,” Thorin breathed, his eyes glazing over at the thought. “I want Bilbo to see her suns, to stand in the light of seven suns and bask in their warmth.”

“The laddie will probably want to stay with us in the end.”

“I will have no argument if he chooses to. Perhaps one day he will be able to return to his System.”

“Aye, if Gandalf’s plans work out in the end.”

“Done!” Kili shouted, and the older Dwarves turned to him. Thorin stepped up, Kili shuffling aside, to read what his nephew had written.

_Race: Man_

_Name: Martin Freeman_

_Age: 5 y-o_

_Height: 3’8”_

_Origin: Rohan System, Edoras_

“Martin Freeman?” Thorin asked incredulously.

“It’s a play on words,” Kili said with a grin. “Martin is a Man’s name. It stems from some god of war or something from the Solar System. And Freeman. Free. Man. Because Bilbo’s finally free from the Shire System.”

“The god of war and the free man,” Thorin said with a shake of his head.

“It fits,” Balin said, nodding. “You best tell Bilbo, so he doesn’t get confused.” Kili grinned and pressed _accept_ on the screen. The folder slid closed and joined the list of the crew of the Dwarves.

“Did you mention why we were transporting a five year old children from Edoras?” Thorin asked. Kili nodded eagerly.

“I said we’re moving him to Lake-Town to be with his surviving relatives. His parents passed away last month and the king of Rohan asked us to move him.”

“That should work,” Balin said. “Now, about the trip to Erebor . . .”

O.o.O

Bilbo was _bored_. Dwalin had dragged him to a rather large, empty room. There no couches or tables in this room for one to rest at. Doors and kiosks lined the hexagonal walls. Several light bulbs had blown, more so than in the hallway, and it made Bilbo nervous. The dim lighting combined with the shuddering lights of those that still survive cast odd shadows. He found himself constantly jerking at strange sounds and sudden movements.

Bilbo spared a glance for Dwalin. The Dwarf stood one of the kiosks, tapping at the screen. He had told Bilbo to stay out of his way for the time being as he filed for rations. Apparently it took a lot of concentration. That or he just wasn’t very good with technology. Bilbo guessed the latter, if Dwalin’s muttered curses were anything to go by.

Shuffling his feet, Bilbo began to make another circuit around the room. He had paced around the room in his boredom, trying to memorize everything about it. With every extra round he began to recognize certain cracks and symbols carved into the wall. A single carving caught his attention, though he stepped away the moment he recognized it: a spider’s web. Four levels of hexagons had been carved into the wall in the shape of a web, all connecting at the center.

During his next circuit, Bilbo spotted something he hadn’t seen before. A glassy circle had been embedded into the wall. Beside it was a pulsing screen. A round cursor spun on the screen, as though something was loading. Peeking over his shoulder, Bilbo found Dwalin’s attention wholly fixed on the kiosk. He turned back and stepped up to the wall. He had to stand on his toes in able to see the circle clearly. It had been made for a Dwarf height, perhaps in the beginning of the Government’s rule in the Khazad System. The glassy eye glowed red the moment Bilbo’s own was level with it. He became aware of a ray of light shining in his pupil.

Bilbo squawked when a hand landed on his head. It wrenched him back away from the glassy just as it had scanned only half of his. The hand on his head turned him roughly to see Dwlain glaring down at him.

“Don’t do that,” Dwalin growled. “That’s a retina scanner. You do that and it goes straight into the Government logbook. They’ll know you were here and we’ll all be in trouble.”

“I’m bored,” Bilbo huffed. “There’s nothing to do in here and you’re just paying attention to that stupid screen.”

“That ‘stupid screen’ is the only thin’ keepin’ us from eatin’ tastless meat and fruit for the next six months. So quit your gripin’.”

“But I’m _bored_.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like a child.”

“You’re treating me like one.” Dwalin growled at that and moved his grip to Bilbo’s arm. Bilbo tugged fruitlessly as the Dwarf dragged him over to stand beside the kiosk.

“Stand there, don’t do anything stupid,” Dwalin ordered. Bilbo pulled a face but obeyed. Not doing so would have just ended with Dwalin twisting his ear . . . again. He stood dutifully beside the warrior and watched as Dwalin tapped the screen. Names of the crew popped onto the screen. Dwalin read each one carefully, updating information occasionally, before pressing a small button in the corner. Bilbo read what he could, most of the words being in Khuzdul, but found it useless. It wasn’t until Dwalin pressed a new name that he could understand anything on the screen.

“Martin Freeman,” Bilbo read aloud. He looked at Dwlain. “Who’s that?”

“Pseudonym,” Dwalin grunted, reading the information for himself. “Some kid from Edoras we’re takin’ to Lake-Town.”

“Since when have we had a child on board?” Bilbo demanded. “I haven’t seen a single Man on that ship since I boarded. Are you telling me that we’ve . . . _oh_!” Dwalin chuckled at his realization. “Oi! I’m not a child! You can’t just say that about me.”

“It’s for your own protection.”

“I don’t care. Change it!” Bilbo tried to reach the screen but Dwalin stopped him with an elbow to his chest. “That’s unfair. I didn’t even get a choice in the matter.”

“We can’t exactly tell the Government we have a Hobbit on board.”

“Well why couldn’t you have said I was an Elf? I have pointy ears.”

“Aye, and we’re going to fix that.” Bilbo blanched at the words, topping his struggles to stare at Dwalin in disbelief. “Oh, aye. Oin and Thorin have been talkin’ about surgery to round your ears off a bit.”

“Y-You’re mad. You’re all mad!” Dwalin roared with laughter as Bilbo swung out at him. “Blasted, insufferable Dwarves!”

“Relax, _Pundurith_. I could make you a cat if you like, a nice little tabby with a bad temper.”

“Insufferable, know-it-all Dwarves and their lack of manners,” Bilbo muttered as he gave up the fight and stomped away. Still chuckling, Dwalin returned to the kiosk, leaving Bilbo to make his rounds of the room once more.

Bilbo continued his boring walk, turning every now and then to glare at Dwalin’s back. Tucked away in his pocket, his fingers fiddled with the ring he had won from Gollum. So far he hadn’t had the need to use it. Thorin and Dwalin had both agreed that Bilbo needed to keep it with him at all times for safety precautions. Bilbo had just finished his fourth round of the room when a strange noise caught his attention. Pausing, he cocked his head. _Whumpa whumpa twee_. Bilbo reached a trembling hand to remove the translator from his ear. _Whumpa whumpa twee._ There was no mistaking that sound. His breath caught in his chest and the walls closed in. He swayed back and forth on the spot, hardly aware of anything going on around him. _Whumpa whumpa twee._ There was nothing for it. The others needed to know.

He screamed.


	36. Bated and Breathless

**Bated and Breathless**

“It should only take a few hours to reach Erebor once we’ve passed through Lake . . .” Balin trailed off at a sharp trill. Kili looked around himself in confusion while Thorin straightened up from leaning against the wall. Together the three of them turned to the docking station.

“Another ship,” Thorin breathed.

“But there was no one else out there,” Kili said softly. “We were the only ones passing through Mirkwood.”

“You can never be too sure, laddie,” Balin said. He grasped the hilt of his sword.

“Not yet,” Thorin said, but he rested his own hand on Orcrist’s hilt. “There is no need for drawn weapons until we know who is on that ship. Kili, bow out.” Kili grabbed his bow from the floor and notched an arrow. He kept the weapon held loosely in both hands before him.

“What about Bilbo,” he asked his uncle. “Someone needs to warn Bilbo.”

O.o.O

Dori paused, chunks of Nori’s hair still grasped in his hands. Nori made a questioning noise, tugging lightly on his hair for his brother to continue braiding. Dori ignored the action in favor of turning to the door. Bofur looked up from his own braids.

“Somethin’ wron’?” the engineer asked.

“I thought I heard a scream,” Dori said absentmindedly. Ori’s eyes widened in fear.

“A scream?”

“Aye.” Dori nodded slowly. The four Dwarves listened for another moment before Dori finally shrugged. “I must have been imagining things.” He returned to braiding his brother’s hair, the final piece fitting into place along his spine. Ori tugged at his small beard, chewing on his lip nervously.

O.o.O

“Another ship’s docked,” Fili said. Bifur paused, a pastry almost to his mouth. The senior pilot of the ship sat at the table with Bombur, Oin, Gloin, and Bifur. His attention had turned to a screen embedded into the table.

“That’s weird,” Gloin said.

“Who’s beard?” Oin asked. His younger brother gave him an exasperated look. “What? Who’s beard did what?”

“Not beard, weird.”

“Still not understanding you, brother.” Gloin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look here,” Fili said as he pointed to the screen. Bifur leaned over to inspect it. Another ship, an _Armada_ by the looks of the schematics, had docked beside their own.

“ _Who else is out there?_ ” Bifur asked in Khuzdul. His cousin frowned and swiped a finger across the screen for more schematics. Fili waved Bombur’s meaty hands away.

“There’s no name,” the pilot said after examining the Khuzdul ruins. “No name, no number . . . nothing. It’s nameless.”

“Alright, who’s blameless this time?”

O.o.O

Dwalin swore to the heavens above when Bilbo screamed. It wasn’t the squealing laughter or the abrupt ‘no’ scream. This one was different. It undulated up and down, reaching notes Dwalin was fairly certain no man – Dwarf, Elf, Man, or Hobbit – was supposed to make. The warbling call reminded Dwlain of gophers when they were warning one another of predators nearby. Whirling around, he spotted Bilbo standing beside the doorway. The Hobbit had his mouth open and his hands clenched at his sides.

“Bilbo,” Dwalin said, abandoning the kiosk for the screaming creature. “What’s wron’? Bilbo? Answer me!” Bilbo continued to scream, adding in a few sharp notes sounding similar to a raven’s croak. Dwlain slapped a hand over Bilbo’s mouth and the screams finally stopped. His eyes, whites showing, whirled around until they finally fell on Dwalin.

“What’s wron’, Bilbo. Talk to me.” He felt lips moving against his palm. Slowly he drew his hand away. Bilbo’s lips moved but no sound came from them. Dwalin placed a steady hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, feeling the trembles that ran through the Hobbit’s body. “Bilbo?”

“A-Atter,” Bilbo said in a bare whisper. Dwalin’s heart sank into his stomach. He reached back to grab Keeper.

“Ring on sword out,” he growled. Bilbo, his trembles running through his limbs, didn’t heed the order immediately. “RING ON SWORD OUT!” Dwalin roared. And Bilbo leapt so suddenly that he was surprised the Hobbit didn’t jump out of his skin. Bilbo thrust one hand into his pocket, the other grabbing his sword’s handle. And then he was gone. He vanished straight into thin air. “You stay by me, Bilbo,” Dwalin said in a low voice, certain the Hobbit could hear him. “Don’t leave this room. You stay by me.”

O.o.O

None of the three Dwarves moved from their positions. Kili’s chest heaved with anticipation. Balin shifted one foot forward to brace himself. Thorin kept his grip on Orcrist tight but ready, just in case. They all stared at the door to the docking bay. Each second felt like an hour to Thorin. He could hear his heart in his ears. His military training had kicked in moments into the realization. He strained his ears for the sound of any movement.

The door hissed open, revealing a black nothingness.

“What?” Kili had barely a second to ask before something flew into the room. Thorin only needed one brief glance to see the familiar canister.

“GET DOWN!” he roared, throwing himself sideways. Balin, recognizing the canister himself, dropped to the floor and covered his head. Kili looked to both warriors in confusion before his gaze shifted to the canister. Thorin watched as though in slow motion. It flew through the air straight at Kili’s head, the young Dwarf not knowing what was coming.

“KILI, GET DOWN!” The warning came a moment too late. The canister imploded in midair not inches from Kili’s face. A terrific bang echoed through the hall and Kili dropped to the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Thorin, his own ears ringing, rolled to his feet. He stumbled sideways in a fit of vertigo into the wall. Amongst the tilting walls and curling ceilings, he could just make out his nephew. Kili shuddered on the floor, blood trickling down his neck from his ears. The explosive sound had likely blown his ear drums.

“Balin,” Thorin tried to shout over the ringing. He turned on dizzying feet, aware of his dangerous swaying. “Balin, where are you.” One more turn brought him face to face with his first-mate. Balin charged at him, ducking down to sweep Kili’s bow from the floor and to empty the pilot’s quiver of arrows. He grabbed Thorin by the arm without a single word and dragged him down the hall. Thorin glanced back at his nephew in time to see another canister flying into the hall.

“Down,” a tinny voice shouted in Thorin’s ear. Following his older friend, Thorin threw himself sideways around the corner. The deafening blast echoed through the halls. The walls shuddered with the sheer force of it.

“Thorin.” He turned at the sound of his name. He could hardly hear anything above the obnoxiously loud ringing. Balin held out Kili’s bow to him, arrows in hand. “Shoot.” Thorin took the bow and an arrow from his first-mate. Steadying himself, he peeked around the edge of the corner.

Several Men dressed in black stepped into the hall. Each clutched an automatic rifle in their hands, swaying left and right as they searched for something. Bulbous goggles covered their eyes. It reminded Thorin of an insect of some sort. Everything the Men wore, from the goggles to their very boots, had been emblazoned with a red spider. The mark sparked a memory in Thorin’s mind. A mithril case and its small, black spider.

“Balin,” Thorin whispered, unsure if his friend could hear him. “Spiders.”

The Spiders moved with crooked limbs. They swayed back and forth as they scuttled around. One Spider flipped Kili over and Thorin felt his stomach lurch. His nephew, the poor lad, struggled to raise a hand in his befuddled state. The Spider just laughed, Thorin really couldn’t tell without his hearing, and aimed his gun at Kili’s heart. He pulled the trigger. Kili gave one great surprised buck and then fell to the floor in spasms. Fury boiled in Thorin’s stomach.

Notching the arrow to the bow, Thorin stepped out from around the corner. His military training had him in action before the Spiders knew what was happening. He shot the Spider standing over Kili down in a swift blow to the head. Balin passed him another arrow and he shot another Spider down, this time to the heart. Arrow after arrow he shot until all twelve were gone. By that time the Spiders had realized what was happening too little too late. Several raised their guns to fire but Thorin had already ducked back behind the wall. He tossed Kili’s bow aside and grabbed Balin by the arm. Together they ran down the hall away from the Spiders.

O.o.O

“Okay, now I really heard a scream,” Dori said, straightening up. “That sounded like Kili.”

“You’re just hearing things,” Nori said through a yawn. Bofur peeked out from underneath his furry hat with a questioning look.

“I swear I heard a scream,” Dori argued. Ori stood from his seat on the floor, wringing his cardigan between his fingers.

“You’re scaring Ori,” Nori said. Ori bristled at that.

“Am not!” Bofur chuckled and pulled his hat over his eyes. Dori patted his youngest brother on the arm and turned to scold Nori. A shout carried down the hall.

“GARB! BABÂN! GARB! _(ATTACK! SPIDERS! ATTACK!)_ ”

No one hesitated. Dori drew his sword from its sheath while Nori swung his mace up from the floor. Bofur had his mattock over one shoulder before Ori had even begun to struggle opening his bag of stones.

“BABÂN! BABÂN! GARB!”

“That’s Thorin,” Bofur said with a serious scowl. “Never knew he was so tone deaf.”

“Come on,” Nori urged. He led the way out of the shower room, the door hissing open at his approach. Dori followed his brother alongside Bofur while Ori took up the rear. Nori swung his mace out into the hall, not bothering to look where it was going. It connected with something rather solid with a crunch. Someone on the other side screamed.

“Really hope that wasn’t Thorin.”

“Nori,” Dori hissed. Nori ignored him to step out into the hall. Dori watched as his younger brother disappeared around the bend. He waited with bated breath. No sound came for Nori for several seconds until . . .

“Get out here, now.” The words came in a loud whisper. Dori rushed out of the room to see Nori crouching over an unconscious Man. Blood pooled under his head. Bofur swore softly. Ori whimpered and Dori stepped in front of him to block his view. Nori turned the Man’s head, shattered goggles barely on his face anymore, to inspect him.

“It’s a Spider,” Nori said. “One of Attercop’s crew.” Dori’s stomach twisted at the words.

“Who?” Bofur asked. Nori straightened up, wiping his stained hands on his pants.

“No time to explain. We have to get out of here. Now.”

“Wh-What’s going on?” Ori asked. “Who’s Attercop? Is he bad?” Nori groaned and fisted a hand in his hair. “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on?” Any other time Dori would have been proud of his youngest brother standing up for himself. But this was not any other time. This was now and now meant run.

“Not now, Ori,” Dori hissed out, grabbing his younger brother by the arm and steering him down the hall. Ori opened his mouth to argue but Dori cut him off. “You like living, yes? Then run!” He shoved Ori forward into a dead sprint, Nori and Bofur close behind.

“We need to find somewhere we can fence them in,” Nori said from behind his brothers. “If we had bows or guns we’d be able to take them head on.”

“Ya’ve got yer throwin’ knives,” Bofur reminded his friend.

“Aye, but I only have four. They won’t be much use against Attercop’s crew.”

“Somewhere we can fence them,” Dori repeated softly to himself. “Somewhere we can fence them in . . . The cafeteria!” he said, turning in his run to look at his younger brother. “We can lead them there and take the kitchens out. Those doors lock.”

“With a passcode,” Bofur said.

“Get me a door and I’ll lock it,” Nori countered.

“Ori,” Dori called to his youngest brother. “Next right!”

O.o.O

“BABÂN! BABÂN! GARB!”

Fili had his twin swords out before his uncle’s words had finished bouncing off the walls. Gloin whirled his axe out, signing to his brother quickly. Oin grabbed his staff. Bifur and Bombur worked together to flip the table they sat at on its side. They used chairs on either side to prop the rounded surface up. The five Dwarves ducked behind the table. Fili shifted both swords to one hand and reached for the throwing axes on his boots. He had knives all over his body. Losing one would barely mean anything to him in a battle. He’d just grab another.

They waited with bated breath for the attack to come.

O.o.O

“Babân! Babân! Garb!” Dwalin growled at Thorin’s soft shouts. His captain and friend was on the other side of the Space Station from the sounds of it. They’d never reach each other in time. It didn’t kill to try, though.

“Bilbo, on my tail,” Dwalin said as he grabbed Grasper from its harness. He held both axes out before him. “Stay behind me and don’t get hit.” A small hand patted him on the back. Snarling to himself, Dwalin charged forward from the room.


	37. Undefended and Uniting

**Undefended and Uniting**

Thorin threw himself down another hall, cursing the architect of this particular Space Station. Its twists and turns, not to mention its spread-out design, made it nearly impossible to find a good place to make a stand. Thorin paused at a fork in the hall. His head whipped back and forth as he inspected the options. The ringing in his ears continued to block any sound that could have come his way. A hand on his shoulder caused him to whirl around, Orcrist drawn. Balin gave him an exasperated look.

‘Forget about me already?’ the older Dwarf signed in Iglishmek.

‘Sorry,’ Thorin signed back. ‘I cannot hear anything.’

‘Neither can I. We need to find the others.’

‘I have warned them, but there is not much they can do with swords and axes.’

‘Fili and Nori both know how to throw weapons well enough.’

‘Two against . . . who knows how many Spiders are on that ship.’ Balin sighed, his shoulder slumping.

‘You have a point there. What do you propose?’ Thorin prepared to answer the singed question when his eye caught a change in the color of the wall. A shadow passed over it, definitely a human one. Shoving Balin behind him, Thorin signed for him to remain where he was. He held Orcrist before him and approached the hallway. Slowly, he crept toward the fork. This particular hallway branched off at an odd angle, making it impossible for him to see anything past a few feet. The shadow drew nearer and Thorin raised his sword to strike. The moment it came within range, he lunged forward and swung down.

Grasper and Keeper caught the sword at the last moment. Dwalin held the crossed axes over his head like a shield, though it probably was one. His arms strained against the force of Thorin’s blow. Thorin drew his sword back as soon as he realized who he’d attacked. Balin hurried past him to head-butt his brother. Glaring past Balin, Dwalin spoke to Thorin. The captain of the ship could hardly make out any sound, only seeing his friend’s lips moving. Balin tapped his younger brother on the shoulder to get his attention.

‘Reverberating canister,’ he signed. ‘We were caught in the blast.’ Dwalin looked his brother and friend worriedly.

‘Are either of you bleeding?’ he signed, knowing himself the dangers of reverberating canisters. ‘Any damages to the ears?’

‘Past the bleeding,’ Thorin signed. ‘No. Kili took a blast to the face, though. His ears drums blew. They shot him.’

‘The Spiders?’

‘Aye. Where is Bilbo?’ Balin nodded vigorously with Thorin’s question. Dwalin turned slightly and spoke over his shoulder to something. Thorin barely Dwalin’s hair moving on its own before he stopped. Dwalin turned back to him.

‘Ring on, sword out. He’s safe behind me.’

‘We need to find a place to take a stand,’ Balin signed to his brother and friend. ‘We cannot do it here. They could come from three fronts.’ Dwalin turned, apparently listening to something Bilbo said, before he returned his attention back to Thorin.

‘What about Kili? Bilbo wants to know.’

‘They are swarming from the docking station where they shot Kili. We would never be able to get him out of there without us getting attacked.’ Balin’s shoulders sagged and Dwalin shook his head in remorse. He reached behind himself. Possibly to pat Bilbo on the head, Thorin supposed as he could not see the Hobbit.

‘We can head back the way we can,’ Dwalin signed to Thorin. ‘Bilbo and I were at the disbursement sight. There’s no entrance or exit except for one door. We could hide in there.’ Thorin thought through his options before nodding.

‘We have no other choices right now. Let us go.’ Dwalin motioned for Thorin to lead the way and took up the rear. Thorin supposed this was a good idea. Out of three warriors, only one could hear. Dwalin would notice an attack from behind before either Balin or himself. Now he knew what Oin felt like.

O.o.O

The doors to the cafeteria slid open and Fili reacted on instinct. He threw the axe with deadly aim over the edge of the table, ducking back down before anyone could shoot. He heard shouts of surprise and a rather girly scream. Bifur’s eyes widened when he recognized the scream and Bombur leapt up with a dismayed shout. Standing slowly, Fili tried to assess the damage he’d done while trying not to look sheepish at the same time.

Nori, Dori, and Ori stood in the doorway of the cafeteria. Dori had clapped a hand over Ori’s eyes. Nori stared wide-eyed at his friend and the engineer of the ship. Fili flushed brightly when he saw what he had done. Bofur stood just inside the doorway, his hands held high in the air. His legs were spread wide where he stood. Fili’s throwing axe was embedded in the wall between Bofur’s legs. The engineer’s eyes had gone wide and he trembled where he stood. Fili’s aim had been a bit off with the throw, but he thanked Mahal for that. If it had been a few inches higher . . . He shuddered to think of what could have happened.

“What is what ya all and my balls?” Bofur croaked before falling backward. “I swear, yer all tryin’ ta neuter me.” Laughter rippled through the gathered Dwarves. Bifur roared in laughter while Bombur hurried around the table to help his older brother back to his feet. Bofur stood, trembling, and he gave Fili a soft smile. Nori moved to wrench the axe-head from the wall and tossed it back to Fili who caught it.

“Nice throw,” he said as Dori lowered his hands from Ori’s eyes. “What is it Dwalin’s always drilling into you?” Fili relaxed his shoulders.

“Assess,” he said. “Then act.” Nori nodded seriously. “I thought you were the Spiders.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Bofur said weakly. “But we’re hardly black-market lackeys.”

“Attercop’s not a lackey,” Nori said. He moved to crouch beside the panel to the sliding doors. Drawing a device from his pocket, he hooked wires into the control panel and pressed a few buttons. “He’s a leader. He spins himself a web with workers and catches prey in it.”

“How do you know so much about him?” Fili asked curiously. Nori looked to Dori who could only shake his head and shrug. Ori tugged helplessly at sleeves.

“I was part of his web,” Nori admitted. Oin looked to Gloin who translated into Iglishmek for him. “Only got out when I asked the Government for protection. They said they’d only do it if I spied on Bofur for them.”

“Which he did,” Bofur said, raising a single hand. Bombur pushed his hand back down while Bifur continued to laugh.

“After Dwalin threw himself down the shaft I quit spying for the Government, decided I had better things to do.”

“Gandalf protected him after that,” Dori said quickly, planting his hands on his hips. “And he’s a reformed spy.”

“I prefer to call myself a thief.”

“Not helping!”

“We’ve all got skeletons in our closets,” Gloin said.

“You don’t wear corsets.”

“Ach, brother!”

“Done,” Nori said. “The doors should be locking any moment now.” Fili stiffened at the sound of pounding boots echoing through the halls. “And just in the nick of time.” The doors begin to slide shut. It was too slow, though. Fili watched in horror as Men rounded the corner. One pointed in their direction and shouted, waving his friends on. One raised their gun.

“HIT THE DECK!” Fili bellowed before falling hard behind the table. Gloin, Oin, and Bifur fell beside him. He heard shouts from the other side of the table. The sound of guns firing filled the hall for several long seconds before the doors squealed shut. The lock clicked into place. Slowly, Fili sat up from behind the table. He peeked over to see Nori crouched beside the panel, his forehead pressed against the wall. Bofur had sprawled sideways, taking his younger yet larger brother down with him.

“We’re all right,” Gloin said, clapping a hand to his forehead. “No one got hurt.”

“ _Ori!_ ” Dori’s scream wrenched at Fili’s heart. He twisted his torso to see Dori crouched over his youngest brother. Ori spasmed on the floor, his limbs jerking in all directions. His eyes rolled back into his head. Ice filled Fili’s stomach. He launched himself over the table and raced to Dori’s side.

“Ori, Ori, please,” Dori begged his youngest brother. Nori abandoned his post at the door to crawl to his brothers’ sides. “Please, sweetheart, baby, don’t do this. Don’t go where we can’t follow.” Ori’s teeth chattered in his spasms. A flailing arm caught Fili in the chest but he ignored it. He couldn’t do anything but stare at his friend in abject horror.

“Move it! Move aside!” Fili allowed himself to be shoved aside as Oin hurried forward. The medic pinned one wrist down, stopping the flailing of that limb at least. Dori stuffed in his knuckles in his mouth to stifle his sobs and Nori grabbed his shoulder in a tight grip. Oin pressed his fingers to Ori’s pulse point in his neck then lifted an eyelid. Opening his mouth, the medic examined his throat. Eventually he sat back on his feels.

“It’s a fit of some sort,” he said. “But I can’t find the cause. His pupils are blown and his eyes are shot.”

“It’s venom,” Nori said. Dori sniffled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I recognize it.”

“What’s . . . venom?” Bofur asked in a soft voice. Nori dipped his hand into Ori’s knitted-covered shoulder and drew out a small bullet. It wasn’t any bullet Fili recognized. It was smaller than normal with a needle at the end.

“Venom. It’s one of Attercop’s inventions. It shuts down the muscles in your body and you suffocate to death. I’ve never seen it have this kind of reaction, though.” Horrified eyes turned to Ori who continued to tremble and jerk. Dori sobbed, falling sideways into his conscious brother. Nori dropped the bullet and wrapped his arms around Dori. He shushed his elder brother helplessly.

“Then there’s nothing we can do,” Oin said softly. A pounding on the door caused them all to jump. Fili rose to his feet slowly.

“We need to barricade the door,” he said. “Bottleneck them so they have nowhere else to go.”

“Who put you in charge?” Nori said.

“Don’t start,” Dori pleaded through his tears. “Please, don’t start a fight. Not now.” Nori’s jaw clicked shut but he kept a steady gaze on Fili who squared his shoulders.

“I am heir to the throne of Erebor. And right now, I’m the only one stepping up to the plate. So either fight with me or stand aside. I really don’t care which you do.” Nori’s eyes narrowed at that. Dori sobbed once more and his façade broke.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way. What do we do?”

“Gloin, Bombur, get as many tables and chairs as you can lined up by the doors. Make them a _V_ to bottleneck the Spiders,” Fili ordered. “Bofur.” The engineer straightened up, his jovial smile gone. “Take Ori’s slingshot and stones. I want you to act as a distraction against these Men when they come through. Nori, you and I are going to stay here and take down as many Men as we can.”

“What about us?” Oin asked Fili, motioning to himself and Dori. Fili thought for a moment before his eyes fell on Ori. The youngest Dwarf had finally stopped spasming, his limbs lying still.

“Take care of Dori,” Fili said. “He’s been hit the hardest.” Oin nodded slowly and moved around Ori’s body to pull Dori to his feet. The other Dwarf didn’t hesitate to cling to Oin, sobbing into the medic’s shoulders. Nori reached into his boots to draw his throwing knives. Bofur, moving with careful hands, untangled Ori’s slingshot from the youngling’s arms and grabbed his bag of stones. He retreated back to the kitchen door.

“We hold this room,” Fili said as Gloin and Bombur carried a table past him. “This is our first line of defense. I want survivors out through the kitchens if this goes sour.” No one bothered to correct his term of _if_ to _when_. They all knew what was coming. Fili breathed hard as he listened to the pounding against the door. They could break through at any minute.

O.o.O

Thorin hated the room the moment they walked in. Dwalin’s head whipped back and forth like a predator’s, scanning for something, anything really. Balin planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. This was no good. The room was bare of any furniture. There would be nothing to protect themselves with.

‘It is no use,’ Thorin signed to Balin who jabbed Dwalin in the back. The warrior turned and Thorin signed it again. ‘We cannot defend this place without any forms of defense.’

‘What do you suggest?’ Balin asked. ‘We have nowhere else to go.’ The three Dwarves looked back and forth between each other. Finally Thorin shook his head.

‘Unless we have time to move, you are right.’ Dwalin turned his torso to speak to Bilbo behind him. Thorin watched the interaction, wishing his ears weren’t ringing so badly. Eventually Dwalin turned back to them.

‘Bilbo says he can hear them coming. He’s startin’ to freak out.’

‘Weapons at the ready,’ Thorin signed. ‘Balin, you and I will be on one side of the door, Dwalin and Bilbo on the other. We flank it.’ He turned to see Balin’s watery eyes. The older Dwarf clapped him on the arm, unsure of what to say. Thorin, sharing in the feeling, pulled his old friend forward to bump foreheads with him.

“I would have followed you to Erebor,” Balin said, his voice tinny in Thorin’s ears. “I would have followed you to the ends of the universe.” Thorin closed his, relishing in the familiarity and safety of the touch. And then Dwalin knocked them both on the heads with the flat ends of his axes.

‘They’re comin’!’ Thorin and Balin hurried to stand on the left side of the door while Dwalin stood on the right. The younger warrior gave it only a moment’s thought before he grabbed his war hammer and tossed it to his older brother, Balin having lost his sword near Kili. The three Dwarves prepared themselves for the horror that came their way.


	38. Fears and Fights

**Fears and Fights**

They should have made the door out of steel. They should have built the halls with a better defense plan. They should have armed the Station. They should have. They should have. They should have. The words rang through Fili’s head as he stood beside Nori. Bombur and Gloin had left the table on its side where it had originally been as protection for the throwers. A series of chairs had been lined up behind the table upon which Fili and Nori had laid out their weapons for easier access.

“Don’t worry if you get hit in the head,” Nori told Fili, elbowing him in the side. “The venom is useless unless it’s shot in the upper torso area. It breaks down in the bloodstream on its way to the heart.

“Right,” Fili said. That would explain why Nori had broken off the backs of chairs and forced Fili to tie one to his chest. Protection against the venom. The door gave a particular shudder as someone rammed into it. Fili’s head whipped around to look toward it. “Do you think Kili’s out there.”

“Probably,” Nori said. “If he’s lucky he was nowhere near the Spiders when they boarded the Space Station.” Neither of them had to voice what would have happened if he’d been unlucky. Fili had already seen it with Ori. Oin had managed to convince Dori they needed to move the body. They were now holed up in the kitchen. Bofur stood just inside the kitchen doorway, slingshot ready.

“They’ll break the code,” Nori said softly. “They know how I work. Any minute they’ll break the code.” Fili could have done without the commentary. It wasn’t really helping his nerves. Then again, it did tell him when to expect the attack.

Nori had been right. They cracked the code only minutes after he’d spoken. The doors slid open and the Men charged in. They were silent but for the pounding of their boots and their strange clicking sounds. The aligned tables prevented the Men from spreading out as they rushed into the room.

Fili and Nori reacted almost instantly, each grabbing weapons. They lobbed throwing axes and knives at the Men. Spiders fell with gurgled screams or shouts of pain. The Dwarves fired off their weapons alternately, neither wanting to strike the same target as the other. It would have been a waste of weapons. From somewhere behind them, Bofur shot off the stones from Ori’s slingshot. They struck Spiders in the face, the Men squealing in pain and dropping to the floor. One particular stone struck a pair of goggles, shattering the glass.

It was pandemonium. Fili had never faced an enemy quite like this before. For every Man they shot down another took his place. _Spiders,_ Fili thought wryly to himself as Nori threw a knife. He grabbed a throwing axe, testing its weight in his hand. _Hydra would have been better._ He lobbed the axe, catching a Man in the throat. The Spider collapsed, his hands flying to the weapon.

The Spiders behind their fallen brothers seemed to have discovered what was happening. Instead of forcing entry into the room, they opened fire. Several darts bounced harmlessly off Fili’s modified chest plate. One or two struck him in the cheek and neck. They pricked with pain that faded quickly. Fili and Nori reached for the very last knife at the same time. They looked to each other in horror for a split second before Fili motioned to Nori. The thief grabbed the knife while Fili drew his twin swords. He hefted them in preparation. Nori threw the very last knife with swift aim before swiping his mace up from the ground. Raising his sword high, Fili shouted.

“Ihkirruki! _(Charge!)_ ”

As one, Nori and Fili launched themselves over the table. Fili landed hard on his feet and shoved off immediately, swinging back and forth against the Spiders. Nori landed on his shoulder, easily rolling back up to his feet. Fili ducked as the thief swung his mace. It whistled over his head and connected with several Spiders’ heads. Fili straightened up, swinging his swords around once more. He jabbed here and there, wherever he could reach.

The Spiders, unused to hand-to-hand combat, didn’t seem to know what to do. They clicked back and forth to each other in fear. Some fired off their rounds at Fili and Nori, but always they bounced harmlessly off the chest plates. One made an irritated sound. He waved to his fellows.

It happened while Fili cut down a Spider, slicing through his leg easily. Another Spider dropped his gun and grabbed him by the arm. He twisted Fili’s wrist and Fili cried out at the pain. His sword clattered to the ground uselessly. He wrenched against the grip. When that didn’t work he swung out with his other sword. The Spider just grinned, all pointy white teeth, and twisted Fili’s arm in a way that had the Dwarf on his knees. He spotted Nori struggling against three Spiders who wrestled his mace from him. Another Spider grabbed Fili’s other arm and wrenched the sword from his grip. Together the two Men held his arms out, trapping him there.

Fili struggled against the Spiders’ grips. He heard shouts behind him from Bofur and Gloin. Turning his head, he meant to shout for them to stop, to turn and run and not look back. Something hard connected with his head and he jerked with the blow. His vision went askew. Head lolling forward, he watched the Spider before him. The Spider reached down and untied a strap from his shoulder. The chest plate clattered to the floor.

“Fili!” Bofur shouted helplessly.

“Run!” Nori called to friend. “RUN!” Fili kept his eyes glued on the Spider standing in front of him. He ignored the familiar shout of Bifur, the way the Spiders opened fire and Bofur and Bombur screamed helplessly. All that mattered were these last few seconds.

The Spider raised his gun and aimed it at Fili’s chest. His mouth opened wide in a grin. Fili tried not to flinch at the sight of pointy white teeth. It creeped him out to say the least. The Spider spoke in his clicking tongue, his finger playing with the trigger.

“Nori, _no_!”

“Dori, stop, go back! Dori! DORI!” Fili blinked back tears. He could just imagine it, Bifur and Dori spasming on the floor while their family watched on helplessly. The Spider’s grin only grew and he pulled the trigger.

Fili didn’t know what he was expecting. That he’d black out instantaneously. Or maybe he’d feel a spot of pain and then it would fade. He hadn’t been expecting this. Pain bloomed out from the dart above his heart. It started out with a stabbing, icy feeling, as though someone had driven an icicle through his heart. And then that icicle turned to a forge-hot poker, twisting and turning in the wound. Forces within Fili battled for control, icy cold and fiery hot. He spasmed with the pain, his teeth chattering in his head. The Men holding him dropped him and he jerked on the ground. His fingers scrabbled helplessly against the floor, his mouth open in a soundless scream of pain. His eyes whirled in their sockets. All around him the Spiders and ceiling and walls twirled together to form one dizzying mass. He couldn’t make the feeling stop.

And then the sensations ceased altogether. They didn’t fade away one by one or trickle into nothingness. They were just . . . gone. Fili’s muscles tensed. His limbs shot straight out and his back arched. Already he could feel the pounding of his heart slowing in his chest. He gasped for breath as his lungs failed to inflate. _Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum._ His heart pounded like a forge hammer, fast and furious. _Ba-bum . . . ba-bum . . . ba-bum . . ._ He’d always wondered what death felt like. Surely it couldn’t be that slow. _Ba-bum . . . ba-bum._ He’d never gotten to say goodbye to his mother and brother. _Ba . . . bum . . . ba . . . bum._ His vision clouded over, though his eyelids did not close. This was the end. He was about to die. _Ba . . ._

O.o.O

It started in his fingers and toes, a pins-and-needles sensation. His extremities tingled as thought insects were crawling over him. The sensation, strange as it was, spread slowly up his limbs. It tickled the crease of his elbows and caused his muscles to spasm. It was nothing like before, though. This time his muscles seemed to be testing themselves, as though making sure they could work one hundred percent. Eventually, _finally_ , the sensation spread all the way to his chest. The most important muscle of his body constricted and . . .

 _Ba-bum._ Kili’s eyes snapped open. His diaphragm expanded and suddenly he was inhaling sweet air, his spine arching toward the ceiling. _Ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum._ The blood pounded through his ears. His fingers jittered against the floor, slowing as the muscles relaxed. His back hit the floor hard and he laid there breathing in the sweet air around him and blinking away tears.

Several minutes passed before Kili finally managed to push himself up onto his elbows. All around him laid the bodies of Men, the very Men who had stormed the Station. Kili bolted upright at the memory. His fingers moved to his cheeks where he felt the caked blood. The pain had vanished in his time unconscious. He could hear again.

“Thorin,” Kili whispered to himself. His uncle had shot Men down before fleeing. He didn’t blame him for it, either. A sword was useless against guns. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling into a wall. He braced himself there and just breathed. His muscles felt as useful as wet noodles at the moment.

Shots rang distantly down the hall. A scream followed soon after and Kili’s head shot up. He knew that sound from the multiple times he’d flipped the ship over in midair. His brother was under attack.

Kili gathered both his wits and energy, and shoved off the wall. Stumbling down the hall was a struggle enough. Finding his bow, though, was a blessing. He nearly fell over in his attempt to get it. His legs could barely hold him up on their own. Once he had the bow, it was only a matter of gathering his strewn arrows. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to see the work of his uncle’s excellent aim.

Armed and ready for battle, Kili forced himself down the hall. Every step he took gave him courage and the will to continue on. His brother had saved him enough times, now it was his turn.

O.o.O

Legolas followed Tauriel around the cockpit, nearly running into her when she stopped abruptly to speak with the captain.

“You cannot do this, Tauriel,” he said in another attempt to make her see reason. “My father has forbidden us.” The captain of the ship rounded on him and he had half a mind to step back. Tauriel was well-known to be dangerous with knives. Her reputation before being adopted by the Elvenking didn’t help any, either.

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do on my ship,” the captain hissed at her friend. “You are a _guest_ , Legolas. I do not care if your father is the king or not. There are Dwarves on that Station and Spiders.”

“It is not our fight,” Legolas said urgently. Tauriel huffed at him and turned back to her pilot, her hair whipping through the air. Legolas flinched when the strands brushed along his face. “Tauriel, think of what my father will say.”

“There is nothing your father can say that would convince me otherwise,” Tauriel said. She patted the pilot on the shoulder and spun on her heel, marching away. Legolas followed her on her way down to the cargo bay. “Those Spiders have invaded our airspace long enough. Now they have the nerve to board a Station controlled by the Government and attack the visitors there.”

“That is the Government’s business.”

“The Government does not even bother to monitor the Stations. Those Dwarves will be killed and their bodies left to rot until the next moon cycle.”

“Is there nothing I can do to convince you, Tauriel?” Legolas asked. He had to jerk himself back when his friend stopped in her tracks. Her shoulders and stiffened and when she turned, her face was a mask of fury and annoyance. “I see . . . then let me be of some use. Perhaps my father will see reason if I help you with this.”

“Your father would not see reason if it shot him in the face,” Tauriel snapped. Legolas narrowed his eyes and she sighed, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “ _Mellon_ , your father is stubborn. Help if you will, but he will see no reason to forgive us for these actions.”

“Then so be it. I would hate to be left on his ship while you had your fun.” Tauriel smiled smugly at that and turned, continuing her way down the hall. Legolas considered his friend’s expression for a moment before he scowled. “Tauriel, you trickster!” Tauriel just laughed.

O.o.O

He heard the entire ordeal through the transmitter. Bofur’s screams, Nori and Fili’s warnings, Dori’s howls . . . It brought back haunting memories. He broke out into gooseflesh, sweat beading on his forehead. His breaths came out in wheezing gasps. And when Bofur gave one last horrible scream, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Wrenching the transmitter from his ear, Bilbo hurled it across the room. His ring flew with the movement. The two devices bounced off the wall together, but only one rolled away. Thorin shouted and Dwalin swore, but Bilbo ignored them as he bolted from the room.

“Bilbo, get back here!”

“Bilbo, that’s not safe!”

“BILBO BAGGINS!”

He ignored them all and ran, one hand clapped over his bare ear while the other clutched his sword tight. His feet carried him far away. To where, he could not tell.

O.o.O

It was the sight of bodies that met the Elves when they stepped into the Station. They had ripped the Spiders’ ship away in order to open up a spot. The Stations were never made for more than two ships at a time. Tauriel paused just in the doorway, Legolas close behind. She surveyed the mess before her with keen eyes.

“It appears to me as though they can hold their own,” Legolas commented drily. Tauriel ignored him and continued on down the hall. Her crew followed her, quiet as they examined the bodies. Celegrûth crouched to exam a Man and jerked something from his chest.

“Tauriel,” the engineer called. She stood, offering an arrowhead out when her captain approached her. Crossing the ground quickly, Legolas watched his friend examine the weapon.

“Dwarves,” she eventually said.

“I was not aware there were any archers among the Dwarves,” Celegrûth commented. Tauriel shot her a look but she didn’t take it back.

“Normally they are not,” Legolas said, speaking in place for her friend. Tauriel tossed the arrow aside and moved to examine another Man. “Many prefer to fire weapons from a ship. There is no honor in that.”

“I have heard the Dwarves forgot their honor when they found their gold,” Corulang the navigator said. A few of the crew member laughed, shaking their heads. The laughter died away when their captain turned back, a few more arrowheads in her hands.

“Someone attempted to take the arrows for reuse,” Tauriel said. Legolas accepted the arrowheads as she tossed them to him. He examined one for himself and found the head snapped off. “Someone may still be on this station.”

“What do you suggest, Captain?” Corulang asked stiffly.

“Search the entire ship,” Tauriel ordered. “Keep an eye out and shoot anything that is not a Dwarf. Save what survivors you can.” Her orders were met with many salutes. The crew split themselves into search parties and departed, leaving Legolas and Tauriel alone in the hall. Legolas turned on his friend.

“What are you not telling them?” he asked. Tauriel gave him a sideways look before turning away. “Tauriel, I can tell when you are hiding something. What is it?”

“ _Hên ned in Ungol_ ,” Tauriel hissed out. Legolas tensed, whipping the arrow from around his shoulders.

“What is a spawn doing here?” he demanded in a hushed voice. “She never lets them out of her sight.”

“They must have angered their mother. We must move with caution. A _Hên ned in Ungol_ will not hesitate to kill anything in its path.”


	39. Listless and Lifeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head back to React and Reflect if you haven't already done so!
> 
> Bada boom!

**Listless and Lifeless**

“BILBO BAGGINS!” Thorin roared helplessly. The pressure in his ears built, the whining sound growing until he could not bear it, and then they popped. Shaking his head like a wet dog, Thorin stumbled backward.

“Thorin, you alright?” Dwalin asked. He nodded quickly, rubbing his ear. In the corner of his eye he could see Balin doing the same thing.

“Must be the medical mites,” Balin said as he lowered his hand. Dwalin breathed a sigh of relief knowing no one was in immediate danger of dying. Well, not no one. “We need to go after Bilbo.”

“It would be too dangerous,” Thorin argued. “Those Men are armed with guns.”

“But they’ll see Bilbo,” Dwalin argued. “He threw his ring.” Balin followed the direction of his finger and hurried across the room. Thorin ignored him in favor for turning back to the hall.

“There is no telling how many Men are still out there,” he said. “Or what could have possibly frightened Bilbo.”

“Regardless,” Balin said as he made his way back to his brother and friend. He handed the ring to Dwalin who slipped it into his pocket. The transmitter he slipped into his own. “Bilbo has thrown himself into the path of an enemy. We cannot leave him to die alone.” Thorin looked between the brothers before groaning. Dwalin grinned in triumph.

“Keep your eyes open,” Thorin ordered, hefting Orcrist in his grip. “There is no telling what could happen.” Balin and Dwalin nodded seriously before following him out into the hall.

O.o.O

He didn’t know what led him there. Maybe Eru had decided to mess around with him, or luck just wasn’t on his side that day. Whatever it was, Bilbo found himself standing in the doorway of the cafeteria, sword hanging in one hand. Before him laid the bodies of several Men. Swords and axes littered the floor in ways that suggested they had been pulled from injuries and tossed aside in the throes of death. One Man in particular had a pair of shattered goggles still wrapped around his face.

Stepping over a pair of legs, Bilbo move slowly into the room. He kept his eyes trained down on the floor. His vision blurred, blending the bodies and floor together. He couldn’t tell what he was looking at – body, gun, or floor – until his eyes fell on a familiar shade of gold. A strangled cry fell from Bilbo’s lips. He threw himself forward, falling to his knees at Fili’s side. The Dwarf laid still on the floor, his eyes unseeing.

“Fili,” Bilbo sobbed. He reached for the Dwarf’s throat, paused, and then continued forward. His fingers pressed against a pulse point. He found nothing. No heart beat against his fingers, no life pulsed through the Dwarf. Fili was dead. “Fili, I’m sorry,” Bilbo choked, draping himself across the Dwarf’s still frame. Through blurred tears he could just make out Nori’s body several feet away. The hot tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He sobbed shamelessly into the Dwarf until a voice echoed through the room.

“What. A. Shame.” Bilbo’s breath caught in his chest. “What a pity, what a shame. They really were such handsome Dwarves.” Trembling on his knees, Bilbo tried to remind himself how to breathe. “And how they died. Tut, tut. There was no honor in it. Their mothers will be so disappointed.” Adrenaline pulsed through Bilbo’s veins and he shoved himself to his feet.

“Do you think they wept?” the voice asked, clicking with the words. “Do you think they begged for mercy?” Bilbo tried his hardest to ignore the words as he staggered away from Fili, sword in hand. He nearly tripped over the body of Dori, the Dwarf’s hands reaching for his younger brother, on his way around the braced table. He had to get out of there, escape back to the ship somehow.

“I think they _begged_ ,” the voice said as Bilbo skirted around the still Bifur. “I think they begged and pleaded for their gods to spare them. And look where that brought them.” Bilbo choked at the sight of Bofur’s boot just inside the kitchen door. “What about you, little fly? Will you beg for mercy in the end?”

The kitchen was no better than the cafeteria. Ori’s body had been laid on a counter, his hands folded on his breast. Gloin leaned against the counter on the floor, as though he had fallen defending the body of his friend. His older brother laid beside him. His staff had been knocked aside, though it had seen its usefulness in the end. Several Men on the floor had blossoming bruises on their foreheads. Bombur was at the back of the kitchen, knives littering the floor around him. He had chosen to use the utensils as projectiles.

Bilbo choked back a sob, falling to his knees.

“A pity I will never know. They want you alive, see? I suppose trusting my boys could get the job done was foolish. I should have known better. But what’s a few dead men worth? Nothing, in the end.” He couldn’t handle it anymore, couldn’t keep it in. His throat burned with the bile and his stomach churned as he threw up. His friends were dead. Gone. He was trapped.

O.o.O

“Why would she have sent her spawn out of their webs?” Legolas asked as they hurried down the hall. They moved side by side, their feet barely making a sound on the steel floor. Their bows remained before them, notched and ready to fire.

“There is no way to tell,” Tauriel said. “No one has ever captured a _Hên ned in Ungol_ before. Their ways remain a mystery to us.”

“The way they like it,” Legolas said drily. Tauriel didn’t respond as they continued down the hall. His eyes scanned the walls and floor, taking in every aspect. The canisters they’d found back by the ships suggested the victims had been attacked with an explosive before the Men had boarded. Beyond the entrance hall there were no bodies to speak off. The fight had started there, the defenders fleeing when they’d had the chance.

“ _Daro_ , (Stop,)” Tauriel commanded, a hand flying into the air. Legolas froze in mid-step and raised his bow, keeping his arm steady. “ _Lasta,_ (Listen,) _Mellon_.” Looking at Tauriel from the corner of his eye, Legolas obeyed. He strained his ears. Several seconds passed before he heard it.

_“There he is!”_

_“Get him!”_

_“He’s getting away!”_

Tauriel and Legolas exchanged brief glances before tearing in the direction of the voices. Years of training together kept them from jostling one another in their hurried footsteps. The sound of a gunshot urged Legolas into a dead sprint. Tauriel matched him step for step, a hand flying to her knife while she kept the bow loosely at her side.

He came around the corner with such speed Legolas faltered in his steps. The Dwarf, rather tall for his kind and raven-haired, skidded to halt at the sight of the Elves. His whipped back and forth as he glanced over his shoulder then back to the Elves. Legolas could only guess what was coming. Apparently so had Tauriel.

“Down!” she shouted, throwing her knife. The Dwarf hit the ground faster than Legolas had ever seen one move. The knife lodged in the throat of a Man just as he rounded the corner. He fell gurgling, the gun dropping to the floor.

Three more Men flew around the corner. Legolas shot one down immediately, reaching for another arrow before the last had struck his target. Tauriel joined him and together they brought the Men down in seconds. The Dwarf raised his head slowly, peeking over his shoulder before turning back to Legolas and Tauriel. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Legolas kept a tight grip on his bow – arrow notched – just in case the Dwarf tried anything.

“Thanks,” the Dwarf said hesitantly. He dusted himself off, though Legolas couldn’t see a speck of dust on him. “They probably would have killed me.”

“Are you the captain of the ship docked back there?” Tauriel asked, jerking her head over her shoulder. The Dwarf’s eyes flicked in the direction and he frowned with a shake of his head.

“That’d be my uncle. I’m the junior pilot, Kili Durin.” Legolas stiffened at the familiarity of the name. If this was a Durin then that could only mean his uncle was . . . “Thorin Oakenshield,” Kili said to Tauriel’s apparent question. Legolas jerked himself back to the present.

“And where is Captain Oakenshield?” Tauriel asked.

“Just Thorin,” Kili corrected, and Tauriel arched one eyebrow. “He hates being called Captain Oakenshield. He’s . . . somewhere on this Station. I don’t really know where, though.”

“Are you aware there is a _Hên ned in Ungol_ on this ship?” Legolas asked sharply. Kili mouthed the words, his lips stumbling over the fluidity of Sindarin, and then he shook his head.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means ‘Child of the Spider’,” Tauriel translated. “They are spawn of the woman who leads their operation.” The Dwarf shrugged again.

“Haven’t seen one of those on board yet.”

“We have no time to argue,” Tauriel said. “Kili, are there any more of your crew who have survived?”

“I really don’t know,” Kili said, shifting from foot to foot. “But I agree with you. We don’t have time for this. Those Men, those _Spiders_ , are on this Station looking for something. And if we don’t find it first then everyone is going to be very, very sorry.”

“ _How do we know we can trust him?_ ” Legolas asked Tauriel in Sindarin.

“ _He has nowhere else to go. He is trapped on this Station unless we choose to help him.”_ Legolas sighed hard then turned his eyes on Kili. The Dwarf froze in the process of turning, his drawn sword held in a tight grip.

“Are you with me or not?” he asked.

“We are with you,” Tauriel said. Kili grinned and darted away, leading the Elves down the hall.

O.o.O

Staring down the arrow of an Elf was not how Thorin had expected his day to go. He had intended to board the Station, fill up on fuel and resources, and then leave for Erebor once more. He had _not_ meant to chase a runaway Hobbit down the hallway only to meet four Elves on the way there. Dwalin growled as an Elf poked him in the side with the arrow.

“Touch me again, Pointy-Ear,” the warrior snarled. “And you’ll regret it.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Balin asked, eyeing an arrow too close to his eye for his liking.

“There are Spiders aboard this ship,” one Elf said. He – or she, Thorin really couldn’t tell with this one – turned to his company. “Lower our bows, there is no reason for us to be threatening the Dwarves. They are not the ones we are hunting.” His kin obeyed, their bows lowering from their threatening position. Thorin looked sideways at Balin. His first-mate licked his lips nervously.

“Have you seen anyone come down this way?” he asked slowly. The Elf paused in his conversing with one of his kin. He turned now to face Balin, a look of confusion on his face. “He would look like a child to you, not taller than four feet.”

“We saw no child,” the Elf said. “You are the first beings we have seen on this ship except or two Spiders back down the hall.”

“Why would you Dwarves have a child on your ship?” another Elf asked curiously.

“We were transferring him to Lake-Town,” Thorin said, lying through his teeth. “His name is Martin Freeman. He hails from Edoras.”

“A human child,” the first Elf said. “Strange for Dwarves to be carrying such precious cargo.”

“We owed the king a personal debt.”

Thorin watched as the leader of the group turned to his kin. He spoke quickly, words falling fluidly form his lips. One Elf answered in hushed tones. Thorin waited impatiently. Occasionally an Elf threw him a look, but otherwise he remained out of the conversation. Dwalin’s impatience had reached the end of the rope – the Dwarf growling and fingering his axe – when the Elves finally turned back.

“Our captain has ordered us to find survivors,” the first Elf said. “Halltinnu will lead you the three of you back to the ship while we search for your young friend.” Thorin opened his mouth to argue but the Elf raised his hand. “We are not above knocking you unconscious if you choose to obey.”

“ _Thorin,_ ” Balin said in Khuzdul. “ _We have no choice but to listen to them. We are both outnumbered and under prepared. We would not stand a chance against them._ ” Thorin hated to admit it, but he was right. They had no choice but to obey the Elves. It was with a heavy heart he spoke the next words in the common tongue.

“Lead the way.”

O.o.O

“Come out, come, out, little fly,” the voice clicked. “There’s nowhere you can hide that Attercop can’t find you.” Bilbo scrambled behind the counter just as he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. Shadows danced across the linoleum floor. He watched three, no four, shadows move slowly into the kitchen. Only three held objects in their hands. The last remained unarmed.

“If it was my choice I would sell you,” Attercop continued as Bilbo crawled backward on his knees. He kept his eyes trained on the shadows growing nearer. “Perhaps I would even take the time to find you a good master, someone who wouldn’t beat you senseless daily. Would you have liked that, little fly?” Bilbo’s stomach churned at the thought. He raised a shaking sword before him, as though to ward away evil spirits.

The shadows drew nearer and Attercop stepped around the corner. He was a tall Man, rather slender for the way his voice sounded. Bilbo had expected him to be smaller and maybe a bit weedier. The Man dressed in an impeccable black suit, a pair of black sunglasses perched on his nose. In the corner of the right lens was a red letter _A_. He grinned at the sight of Bilbo, his mouth filled with pointy white teeth.

“The little fly has a sting,” Attercop clicked. His men chuckled at that. Two stepped up beside their leader while a third moved around the corner behind Bilbo. The Hobbit trembled, the tip of his sword lowering to the ground. “What did you expect to be able to do with that, little fly? Were you going to sting us?” The sword dropped from Bilbo’s grip and he sobbed in terror. “Come now, little fly, you have no other choice but to come with us. I promise the return trip will be better than the last.” Attercop stepped forward as he spoke. Bilbo flinched away as he reached out for him. “Just . . . give up.”

“Get away from him!” Bilbo’s eyes snapped open at the furious shout just in time to see one of Attercop’s men drop to the floor. An arrow stuck out of his shoulder. Attercop reared back from Bilbo, spinning to face the door.

A red-haired Elf leapt into the room, nimbly hopping onto a nearby corner. She shot down another Man. A blond Elf followed her in, shooting the Man behind Bilbo almost immediately. Both Elves turned notched arrows on Attercop who hissed and clicked to himself. Bilbo barely had time to shout a warning before the Man had a canister out of his pocket. He wrenched a pin from the canister and tossed it into the air. From the other side of the counter, Bilbo heard Kili’s shout.

“GET DOWN!” Bilbo flattened himself on the floor, aware of Attercop fleeing for the back door, just as the canister landed near his head. His let his jaw fall loose. The explosion rocked the entire room. It shattered against Bilbo’s ear drums. Pots and pans shuddered and fell from their hooks on the walls. Tears filled Bilbo’s eyes at the sheer force of it. Never before had he felt it.

Bilbo didn’t know how much time passed before hands were patting him on the back. He raised his head to see Kili kneeling over him. The Dwarf smiled assuredly at him. He motioned behind himself at the two Elves who drew near. One – the red-haired Elf – removed ear plugs from her pointed ears with a smug smile. Her friend glared at her, as though he blamed her for the explosion.

“Elves, Martin,” Kili’s words brought Bilbo’s attention back to the Dwarf. He frowned at the name. “Just like you’ve always wanted to see.”

“Is he alright?” the red-haired Elf asked. Kili spared her a glance before turning back to Bilbo.

“He’s just a bit shaken up. Good thing he listened to me, otherwise his eardrums might have been blown.” Bilbo leaned against his friend, no longer caring for the improper name being used on him. The ringing in his ears was enough to drive him mad. It didn’t matter, though. His adrenaline rush had ended and he was exhausted.

“Martin? Martin, you alright?” Kili’s words faded away into nothingness as the black took over Bilbo’s vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that took a lot of work. Alright, so notes on everything I just posted.  
> -The hand signs Bilbo and Nori use are the equivalent to an American's middle finger. Completely made up, not true.  
> -I have found Sindarin and Khuzdul dictionaries to use! Do not expect the words to completely right or for me to use them all the time.  
> -I didn't like how this part of the story had turned out earlier, so I rewrote it. What do you think?
> 
> Any questions, comment below!
> 
> (Also, sorry for being gone for so long! I had finals and now it's the Christmas season. :/ I'll be a busy duck this month with work and online classes, but I'll post as often as I can!)
> 
> (Also, also, I have seen BOFA twice now and it gave me great ideas for that part of the story!)


	40. Obscure and Oblivious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not like I didn't write enough already or anything, but here's another chapter. I'm really liking how this one turned out instead of the last one. Hopefully it continues on this way.

**Obscure and Oblivious**

_January 5015, Outside Gondor Airspace_

Fili knew the moment they left the Gondor airspace. They traveled for a few hours during the day and well into the night. By the afternoon of the next day, they were gone, out of the airspace and into the uncharted territory between the Gondor System and the Khazad System. Where exactly the Government planned on sending him, his brother, and their friend to was a complete and utter mystery to him. And he would never know.

The first blast sent a tremor through the ship. One of the guards outside the cell made a noise of surprise and stood to investigate with the pilot. Fili and Kili shared a knowing look. A smirk graced Kili’s lips. Ori huddled further into himself, preparing for the worst.

The second blast completely rocked the ship. She lurched sideways before the pilot steadied her again. The move jerked Fili against the handcuffs and he gritted his teeth. He could only hope it wouldn’t get any worse than this. Boy, had he been wrong.

The ship they were on decided to trade fire with the attackers. Knowing his particularly feisty ship, and Kili’s ambitious and energetic one, that did not bode well for the Men. Blast after blast struck the ship until she listed dangerously sideways. Lights all around flickered on and off as the main source of the ship was struck. Fili swore under his breath as they were plunged into utter blackness. Silence filled the air but for the shouting of the crew and guards.

“Are they done?” Ori asked in a quiet voice.

“I-I don’t know,” Kili said, stumbling over his own words. “Fili, you okay?” Fili opened his mouth to answer but was glad he never got the chance to. He probably would have bit off his own tongue. And _that_ couldn’t exactly be regrown by the medical mites.

A particular shot from the _Eagles_ outside sent the prison ship keeling over completely. Fili found himself first jerked too far to the left and then suddenly upside down. He hung like a bat with nothing more than his arms and legs to suspend him. His limbs screamed in protest against the pain, begging for it to stop. Fili would have if he could have. But an _Eagle_ chose that moment to strike the ship hard. Fili’s head snapped back and hit the wall, and black dots flooded his vision.

O.o.O

_October 5014, An Elvish Spaceship_

Bilbo didn’t dream during his period of unconsciousness. He never did after adrenaline rushes. They drained his system entirely, leaving his mind too exhausted to haunt him with nightmares. He blamed the contaminated air for the horrors in the air vents. He still didn’t understand them, but refused to ask anyone for help. Adrenaline, drugs, it seemed all he ever needed to sleep was drugs, whether they be natural or medical. He knew what Gandalf or Dwalin would say. Not healthy, it could start a drug addiction. And so, it was without a single nightmare that Bilbo up back in the one he was living.

Bilbo’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment he couldn’t understand what he was looking at. All around him were bunks he didn’t recognize. Three high along the wall, they were a bit too long for a Dwarf to be comfortable in. Dori laid on the bunk directly across from him, his arms wrapped around Ori’s waist. He had pressed his face into his younger brother’s ginger hair. Ori didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, if Bilbo’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, tear tracks ran down the youngest Dwarf’s face.

“What were we supposed to do?” Balin’s voice caught Bilbo’s attention. He remained here he was, lying on the bunk with his eyes barely cracked open. The exhaustion still crashed over him in waves, as though the sleep he’d had wasn’t enough.

“We should have convinced the bastards we did not need a ride to Mirkwood.” Thorin sounded more furious than Bilbo had ever heard him before. That included the time he’d fallen from the rafters and gotten himself captured by trolls. Scratch that, he still blamed Kili for the ‘getting captured’ part of the trollshaw.

“They would not have listened, Thorin,” Balin said in an exasperated voice. “The Elves are only trying to help us.”

“And what happens when they realize what Bil- _Martin_ really is? They will take him from us and send him back to the Government.” Martin? Government? For a moment Bilbo’s muddled mind couldn’t place any sense to these words. And then he remembered. Kili had called him ‘Martin’ just before he had passed out on the Station.

Bilbo’s eyes, nearly closed now, snapped open and he sat up. Bofur? Nori? Fili? His head whipped back around to Dori. He watched the Dwarf’s chest rise and fall in even breaths. Alive. Dori and Ori were both alive. Something tugged at Bilbo’s waist but he ignored it as he crawled out from under the covers and along the bed. Down on the other end of the room – a rather long room, now that he saw it – he could make out a familiar hat resting on a hook. Two pairs of boots trailed over the edge of the bed and Bilbo cried out in relief.

“Martin?” The tugging on his waist resumed, growing stronger this time. Something jerked him back and he found himself held against a strong chest. “Martin, are you alright?” Bilbo whined and struggled against the arm pinning him down. Three figures stepped into his eye line and he held his arms out to one in particular.

“Hey there, buddy,” Fili said as he climbed onto the bed. He eased Bilbo from the captivating arms, pulling him into his own lap. “How are you feeling? Does your head hurt anymore?” Bilbo ignored the gentle almost childish voice completely in favor of pressing his face against Fili’s chest. The Dwarf was alive, _alive_. Bless Eru and Aüle and whoever else was up there.

“I believe Martin is still a bit jumpy,” Balin commented. Leaning down, he seated himself on the edge of the bed. “We best let Oin take a look at him when he wakes up.”

“Oin?” Bilbo repeated hopefully, pulling his face from Fili’s chest. Fili carded a hand through his hair and he pressed into it, nearly purring in the back of his throat. Balin chuckled, Thorin sending him a dark look.

“Aye, Oin is alive as well, laddie. They gave us all quite a fright.”

“Is B-Martin awake?” someone asked from down the room. Fili’s arms tightened around Bilbo who pressed into the chest. The voice, though. It was wonderful to hear the jovial laugh again. Even the sly voice that spoke next was heavenly.

“How’s the Martian feeling today?” Bofur and Nori stepped up behind Balin, Bofur leaning down to see Bilbo better. He grinned, his mustache twitching.

“He is not a Martian,” Thorin said darkly. “So do not call him that.”

“It’s a play on words, Thorin, relax.”

“It is not in the least bit funny.”

“Let them be, Thorin,” Dwalin said from behind Bilbo. He had been the one, Bilbo now discovered, to have been trying to pull him back into bed. “If they don’t have pet names for him we’ll never pull this off.”

“We should not have to ‘pull this off’,” Thorin growled through gritted teeth. Bilbo looked around himself in confusion, his sluggish mind slowly catching up. The name ‘Martin’ rang a bell but he couldn’t remember from where.

“It should only be until we get through the Woodland Realm,” Balin said, looking to his captain seriously. “If Thranduil is none the wiser then we will be fine.”

“What’s going on?” Bilbo asked. Both Bofur and Nori shushed him, Bofur pressing a finger to his own lips. “Bof-mph!” Fili clapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish the Dwarf’s name.

“Don’t speak so clearly,” Fili muttered into his ear. “You are a five year-old from the Edoras moon in the Rohan System. You can’t be talking like you’re an adult.” Bilbo tugged fruitlessly at the hand covering his mouth.

“What about the pointed ears?” Dwalin asked in a bare whisper. “Can’t hide those.” Bofur and Nori shared a look before they both slinked away. Bilbo continued to tug at Fili’s hand. The Dwarf sternly refused to remove it, as though thinking Bilbo would not be able to contain himself. Huffing to himself, Bilbo made his decision. If they were going to treat him like a child . . . then he was going to act like one.

Screwing up his face, Bilbo inhaled deeply through his nose and released a high-pitched squeal. He hadn’t made the sound since he had been little and unable to speak. He hoped to get the message of ‘I don’t like this’ and ‘get your hands off me’ across the Dwarves. Apparently it worked. Fili jerked his hand back in surprise and Bilbo immediately cut the sound off. He grinned victoriously to himself. And then he noticed the way the Dwarves were looking at each other.

“They’ll know,” Dwalin said as Balin chewed a knuckle. “Just the way he talks, they’ll know.”

“What can we do about the way he talks, though?” Fili said. “It’s not like we can give a crash course of _Speak Like a Man 101_.”

“Perhaps it would be best if Dori helped us with this,” Balin offered after thinking for a few seconds. “He might think of something.”

“Dori’s not leaving Ori and Nori alone for the rest of the trip,” Dwalin commented. Bilbo squirmed in Fili’s lap, not liking the way the Dwarves were talking about him as though he wasn’t there. What was wrong with the way he talked? His vocabulary and vocals were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

It was in this moment Kili chose to make his appearance. He flashed his brother a grin and even had the audacity to wink, to _wink_ , at Bilbo.

“How are you feeling, sport?” he asked. Bilbo gave him the filthiest look he could muster. The Dwarf straightened up, looking around himself at his kin. “Nori and Bofur said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I said no such thing,” Thorin growled out. Kili’s smile slid from his face like butter. He looked at the other Dwarves in confusion, searching for an answer. Bilbo continued to glare at him. Perhaps if he stared hard enough he could mentally start Kili on fire.

“You talked to the Elves, didn’t you?” Dwalin said. Kili nodded once. “What did you tell them?”

“Well, they wanted to know who Martin was,” the young Dwarf said eagerly. “So I told them the truth.” At this, Thorin tensed and Dwalin exchanged glances with his older brother. “Martin’s from Edoras. His parents died in the last plague so we’re taking him to Lake-Town to be with his surviving relatives.”

“What about his ears?” Balin said. “Did they mention anything about his ears?”

“Actually, yeah. Tauriel, the she-Elf, made the comment about his pointy ears. So I told her Martin had Elf somewhere in his ancestry. She seemed to believe me. I don’t know about the other guy, though.”

“So you’re telling me I’m from Edoras?” Bilbo said, lowering his voice when he found himself shushed by the Dwarves. “And that I’m only five years old and have to act like it? Would someone mind telling me what’s going on?” Thorin and Balin looked to each other before Thorin jerked his head. Dwalin managed to slide himself out from under the covers to follow his captain and brother away. As they left, Bilbo heard Balin speak.

“Martin still looks tired, let’s the leave the lads to get him to take a nap.”

The words sent a red flush up Bilbo’s cheeks. The blood pounded in his ears and through it he could just barely make out Fili and Kili chuckling. He was so out of it that he found himself snuggled down between the two Dwarves under the covers. Fili kept him pinned there with an arm across his chest while Kili propped himself on an elbow with his back to the room. It created an effective barrier against any unwanted ears.

“How much do you know already?” Fili asked in a hushed voice. Bilbo had to think back to the past few hours, deciphering between the confusion and reality.

“Attercop came,” he said softly, a shiver running through his body. Fili drew him closer and pressed his chin to the top of Bilbo’s head. The move gave Bilbo a sense of security. “H-He and his crew shot everyone dead.”

“He didn’t technically shoot us,” Kili corrected. “Nori explained those were darts filled with venom. They shut down the muscle system in your body so you suffocate. Oin thinks the medical mites countered the venom and that’s what saved us all.”

“So you weren’t really dead?” Bilbo asked Fili. The image of the pilot lying dead on the floor still haunted him. Another shudder ran through his body and Fili shushed him.

“No, not at all,” the Dwarf said. “I could see and hear everything but the rest of my body shut down for a while. My heart and lungs wouldn’t work and I couldn’t move.”

“Bofur suggested the mites sent us into a comatose state while they killed the venom,” Kili said. “I know I woke up a couple hours after the Spiders first attacked. I tried to find Thorin but a few of the Spiders spotted me and chased me. That’s when I ran into Tauriel and Legolas. They killed the Men and helped me rescue you. After we got you onto the ship I had to convince them that everyone else wasn’t actually dead. Ori waking up at that moment seemed to help and they moved everyone onto their ship. We’ve all been kind of sitting around waiting for everyone else to wake up.”

“But everyone’s alright?” Bilbo asked in a weak voice.

“Everyone but you,” Fili said, nuzzling Bilbo’s hair. “You poor thing, facing down Attercop on your own. That must have been terrifying.” Bilbo leaned into his touch, whining in the back of his throat. It _had_ been terrifying to meet the creature of his nightmares.

“No idea what happened to him,” Kili muttered in a soft voice. “Tauriel said one of her crew shot him when he was making a getaway in one of their pods.”

“We can hope,” Fili sighed. Kili hummed in agreement. “Now, Martin, we need to go through a couple of rules.”

“What kind of rules?” Bilbo asked.

“Pick a Dwarf and stick to them,” Kili said, holding up his pointer finger. “You’re five years old, you’re not going to want to trust an entire crew of Dwarves.”

“Two,” Fili said with two fingers help up. “Don’t talk too much. Kids are shy and you speak with a weird accent that goes up and down.”

“I resent that!”

“Three, act like you’re really curious about the Elves, like you’ve never seen them before.”

“Four, actually _act_ like a five year old. You know, throw temper tantrums sometimes, take naps, and play with things you find.”

“Not really sure if that’s how five year-olds act.”

“And five, _do not_ , whatever you do, _do not_ respond to Bilbo. Only answer to ‘Martin’.”

“Is that all?” Bilbo huffed.

“For now, yes,” Kili said. Laying down, he snuggled against Bilbo. “Now nap.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“No, but you’re supposed to be five.”

“Not sure if five year-olds take naps either.”

“Just roll with it, Martin.”

“You ever call me Martin outside of this airspace again and I swear I will pour cold soup in your boots.” Kili chuckled at that and nuzzled Bilbo on the cheek with his nose. The two brothers settled down on either side of him and soon were drifting to sleep with loud snores. Bilbo couldn’t help himself. The sounds of the young Dwarves snoring gave him a sense of security, not to mention now he knew that Fili and Dori and the rest of the crew were still alive. With that thought running through his head, Bilbo fell asleep.

O.o.O

Bilbo awoke a second time that day, this time with a whine. Strong hands hooked under his armpits and he found himself lifted onto a hip. The familiar sensation of a muscled arm braced against his back. Someone had removed his suspenders and untucked his shirt to give him a more childish look. A hand patted Bilbo gently on the head, easing him down to rest it on their strong shoulder.

“Keep on sleepin’, Martin,” Dwalin’s familiar voice rumbled. “We’re just seein’ the Elves.” Bilbo muttered to himself and pressed his face into the junction of Dwalin’s neck and shoulder. Woken in up in such a rude way, he was trapped in that woozy ‘what year is it?’ moment.

“My father will see you now,” a strange voice said from somewhere far off. Bilbo forced one eye open to see the blond Elf standing before them. He watched Thorin with an intense stare, as though expecting something from him. The red-haired Elf stood directly behind him with a faintly curious expression on her face.

“Lead the way,” Balin said.

The blond Elf – Legolas, Bilbo thought Kili had called him – nodded and turned, leading the Dwarves out of the room. Bilbo let his eyes slip shut once more. He loved the way Dwalin walked. There was no lollop in his step like a Hobbit’s or an Elf’s. He walked with his weight connected to the earth in a fluid movement. It soothed Bilbo back into a distant sleep. The sounds around him faded into a black tunnel.

“Martin.” Bilbo found himself jostled slightly. Mumbling to himself, he forced his eyes open. Directly before him he could see the back of Bifur’s head. The Dwarf had one hand on Bofur’s hat and the other on Bombur’s, as though he was worried his cousins would disappear.

For a moment Bilbo wondered why Dwalin had even bothered waking him up. And then he saw it, well, him. A blond Elf, looking very much like Legolas, stood on the dais of a throne. He looked down upon Thorin, as one did a bug, and spoke in a condescending tone. Thorin answered in a somewhat even voice. There was a hint of strain in there, like he was holding back from utterly yelling at the Elf.

“That’s Thranduil,” Dwalin muttered into Bilbo’s ear. “Pointy-eared bastard’s the king of the Woodland Realm.” Thranduil said something Bilbo couldn’t hear and Balin stepped forward speaking urgently, his hands outstretched.

“Bed,” Bilbo mumbled, wanting to go back to sleep. Kili’s words drifted back to his memory and he started to wonder if he could get away with throwing a temper tantrum. He had been pretty good at them when he’d been little. Screaming fits and bashing his head against the floor. His mother had said she’d always thought he’d been possessed by demons until he’d bashed them out of himself.

He never got the chance to test that theory. For at that moment, Thranduil swept through the Dwarves like they were a field of wheatgrass. Thorin and Balin followed him, both looking nervous. Bilbo blinked blearily when the Elvenking knelt down to be at his level. Words tumbled down from the King’s mouth. They sounded far-off familiar to Bilbo, as though from a distant memory. He missed the horrified expression on Thorin’s face and the knowing look they’d failed on Balin’s. Instead, he mustered up the memory as well as he could.

“ _Again_ ,” he said. Thranduil’s eyebrows rose slightly. “ _Sleepy_.”

“ _I asked if you are truly of Edoras,_ ” the Elvenking said in language of Rohan. Bilbo yawned and nestled his head against Dwalin’s shoulder.

“ _Uh-huh_.” Oh, he was _good_ at this five year-old thing. It was piece of cake!

“ _Why are you traveling with these Dwarves?_ ”

“ _Mama and Papa left and didn’t come back. The church man said I have to go somewhere else now._ ”

“ _I see, and do you like traveling with the Dwarves?_ ”

“ _They’re funny._ ”

“ _Have they harmed you at all?_ ”

“ _No_.”

Thranduil hummed thoughtfully at Bilbo’s answer before he stood. He turned to Legolas, speaking in Sindarin with his son who stiffened. Beside him, Tauriel’s face grew stony as the king addressed her. Finally, after raising his hand many times against Tauriel’s quick words, the Elvenking turned to the Dwarves.

“The guards will show you to rooms for the night,” he said. “I am afraid you will have to remain in separate rooms, including your young charge. There is not space enough in them.” Bilbo caught the way Thorin looked back at him.

“Very well,” Thorin said in a resigned voice. “When will we be able to return to the Station for our ship?”

“A few days should suffice,” Thranduil said. “I will send you out with the next scouting party.” Thorin gave the king a small, and rather jerking, bow then turned toward the guard waiting for them. Bilbo felt the ground beneath him lurch as Dwalin turned away. It was in these last moments of consciousness that he heard the Elvenking speak in the Rohan language.

“ _Do not worry, I will save you._ ” Had he been more awake, his eyes would have shot open in surprise. The king knew. The Dwarves hadn’t fooled him one bit.

O.o.O

_January 5015, Outside Gondor Airspace_

Fili came to with the sensation of something hot and thick filling his mouth. Groaning, he blinked his sore eyes open. In the black room he could hardly make anything out. Across from him hung the still form of his younger brother. Ori hung upside down in the corner just as still. Inhaling through his nose, Fili winced at the pain he felt. The blood had rushed to his head, filling his mouth during his unconsciousness. He spat out the mouthful of blood, careful not to aim it at his brother or friend.

Outside, he could hear nothing. The _Eagles_ had fallen silent with a break in their attack. No guards or crew shouted through the halls. Everything was completely silent. Briefly, Fili wondered if the ship had managed to strike the _Eagles_ or if they were just biding their time. The sound of Kili groaning awake snapped Fili back to their current predicament. No amount of hanging upside was healthy for anyone.

“Fili,” Kili croaked out. Fili heard him spit then groan again. “Think I broke a tooth.”

“Hopefully that’s just the worst,” Fili told his brother.

“Ori awake yet?”

“I am now,” came the small answer. “What happened?”

“Can’t tell,” Fili said. “I think they’ve stopped attacking, but it’s hard to tell.” The ship shuddered as something struck it.

“Nope!” Kili said, his voice rising high into hysterics. “Not done! Not done!” The shudders continued, jarring their way through Fili’s teeth. He tried to remind himself not to clench his jaw, but it was hard. His body wanted to resist against this pain.

Finally the shuddering stopped altogether. Fili inhaled a relieved breath that quickly turned to surprise when his cuffs suddenly released him. He fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap. Ori yelped and Kili screamed – quite high for a male Dwarf – as they both hit the floor.

“Not helpful,” Kili said into the steel. Ori mumbled his agreement. Rolling over, Fili groaned at the pain coursing through his body. He’d been through enough already without falling several feet to a steel floor, well, ceiling. Above him he could make out a blue light. He frowned, confused for a moment, until it dawned on him.

“Move, _move_ , they’re cutting through!”

“What do you mean ‘they’re cutting through’?” Kili asked in confusion as his brother shoved against him. “Who are?”

“ _The Eagles_ , dummy.” Fili managed to shove his brother out of the way just in the nick of time. A square of steel crashed to the floor where the Dwarf had previously been lying. Crackling wires and pipes stuck out at odd angles from between the layers. Kili stared at it, stunned beyond words. Fili dared to lean forward and peek upward. The belly of his ship _Goshawk_ greeted at him. A screen flashed blue at him and she trilled.

“Lovely to see you too,” Fili said. _Goshawk_ chortled, the screen flickering between shades. “A warning would have been nice.” At this _Goshawk_ made an impatient beeping noise. “Right, fine. You win. You _did_ end up saving us in the end.”

“Now if only they would get us out,” Kili said. Ori mumbled in agreement, having sprawling somewhere in a corner in surprise.

Staggering to his feet, Fili stepped onto a horizontal rim running along the wall. He managed to shove off and grab the very edge of the hole with ease. Pulling himself up through it was another matter entirely. _Goshawk_ urged him on with her quiet yet excited coos. Finally, after several thoughts he would slip and fall, Fili managed to drag himself into the belly of his ship. He pulled his legs in and the panels folded shut underneath him.

“Right,” he said, getting to his feet. “How are we going to do this without killing my brother or Ori?” A screen to his left flickered white and flicked with starbursts. “Of course, I forgot all about your magic, how stupid of me.” _Goshawk_ trilled at him, her screens flashing blue in a wave sequence.

 _The Eagle_ pulled away from the Government ship, her wings expanding. A glance down showed Fili the force field she had built over the hole. _Albatross_ , Ori’s ship, took her place for her pilot to board. _Skydiver_ , ever the impatient ship, pulled corkscrews and loop-the-loops in boredom. Extracting both Kili and Ori seemed to take forever for Fili. He waited impatiently, seated on the pilot’s chair of his ship, drumming his fingers against the console.

“Okay, we’re saved,” Kili said once _Skydiver_ had pulled away from the Government ship. “Now what?”

“We need to get a hold of Dain or Thranduil, maybe Bard,” Fili said, flicking buttons and twisting knobs. _Goshawk_ relinquished control willingly, cooing to herself a song. “One of them might be able to help us.”

“But they’re all on the other side of the System,” Ori piped up. “We’d never make it to them in time to save Bilbo.”

“I’ll think of some-thing,” Fili’s words faltered at a strange symbol on one of the many screens. Reaching over, he pressed the _M_. A sequence of words flashed across the screens.

_Mother’s crying find her child,_

_The guards are searching all the while,_

_The sun has set in the west,_

_The warriors’ gathering for their best,_

_They’ve taken him where you won’t find him tomorrow,_

_You’ll search and search, but you won’t find the barrow._

_~G_

“Kili, call Tauriel,” Fili said in a tense voice. “See if you can’t get her help.”

“Fili, what’s wrong?” Kili asked.

“Where are we going?” Ori asked, just as curious.

“We’re going to the Barrow Downs, and Dain’s coming with us.”


	41. Mysteries and Malcontent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here's what Castor and I figured out about the progression of my story!  
> We're taking the Hobbit to the sanctuary-never mind, you're helping us reclaim Erebor-what do you mean it's a government conspiracy?-Attercop's after him?-He's an experiment?!-screw it, we're taking down the Government whether they like it or not-by the way, we're escaping from prison and rescuing our Hobbit too!-did we happen to mention the Battle of the Five Armies we kinda sorta caused?  
> That escalated quickly . . . THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK STORY!

**Mysteries and Malcontent**

Of the many languages of the universe, Khuzdul was the only language Dwalin was entirely fluent in, having spoken it from childhood. He could pass with decent enough Westron, though his accent sometimes made it so that no one could understand past the growls. He knew two words in Hobbitish:  _mathom_ and  _smial_ , both learned from Bilbo. He didn’t know a lick of either Sindarin or Quenya. He did, though, know enough Rohirric to be able to say  _yes_ ,  _no_ , and _where’s the bathroom_ ?

So when the Elvenking spoke to Bilbo in Rohirric, Dwalin was terrified. Bilbo passed off with his own fluent knowledge of the language. Where he had learned it, Dwalin didn’t know. Thranduil, that Elven bastard, seemed to accept whatever Bilbo said readily enough. He even offered to give the crew a place to stay for the night, though their “Boy from Rohan” would be staying in his own room. Dwalin could handle that. Bilbo was a big boy. But those last few words that Thranduil spoke to Bilbo made him nervous. He didn’t know enough Rohirric himself to translate it and he wasn’t sure if either Balin or Dori would. Bilbo himself didn’t respond to it.

To be honest, Dwalin didn’t know what to expect.

In the past half hour of holding Bilbo like a child – as tired as the Hobbit was – Dwalin’s arm had begun to grow sore. He’d become used to the sensation of holding the Hobbit. There were some nights when Bilbo just couldn’t sleep in a bed and only Dwalin’s arms would do. Those nights usually ended with Gloin or Thorin staying up and taking their share of “Bilbo-sitting”. But the amount of holding Bilbo and not being able to shift him to the other arm was making it go numb. He prayed it would end soon.

“ _Daro_ ,” the Elf guard behind Dwalin said roughly. Dwalin ignored him and continued down the hallway after the rest of the crew when a hand landed on his shoulder. Growling, he tried to wrench free from the grip. All it earned him was a glare and a mumble from a tired Bilbo. “ _Daro_ ,” the guard said again. Dwalin narrowed his eyes at the Elf, starting to wonder if any of them spoke Westron. “His room is here.” Apparently he did. He just didn’t like speaking it. The guard gestured to the door beside him once more. “The child will be staying here.” Dwalin glanced over his shoulder to see the rest of the crew several yards down the hall.

“Why’s his room so far away?” he asked the guard in a growl, turning back to the Elf. The guard considered him for a moment before speaking again.

“The child stays here.”

“And I’ll ask again, why’s his room so far away?” The guard’s eyes narrowed behind his veil. Dwalin met the hidden glare with one of his own before the guard finally spoke.

“This is the only child-friendly room we have,” he said. “The child stays here.”

“And why can’t I stay with him? Martin’s not old enough to trust strangers.”

“Not enough room.” The guard turned to a keypad and pressed the flat head of the ring on his left hand against it. A green bar ran down the keypad. It flashed entirely green and the door slid open. The guard ushered Dwalin in.

The moment Dwalin stepped into the room, light flooded it. He blinked several times before the dots cleared form his vision. What he saw shocked him. The room had once been made for a small person, perhaps even a child. The bed was perfect for Bilbo, just a few inches short of the Hobbit’s height. The dresser and nightstands were half the size of a Man’s. The windowseat positioned at the far end of the room, clearly, had been made for a child. Bilbo could easily pull himself onto it without either struggle or help.

“The child stays here,” the guard said. Dwalin shot him a glare over his shoulder.

“You say that again and I’ll drive it into your skull.”

“Dwal.” Dwalin paused at the mumbled word. “Dwal, tired,” Bilbo muttered. His fingers wove themselves into Dwalin’s beard. “Bed.” Dwalin couldn’t help but chuckle at the sleepy demand.

“Right, Martin,” he said. “Bed.” Moving slowly across the room, he lowered the Hobbit onto the bed. It took a lot of coaxing to get him to release his beard from his grip. In the end, Dwalin managed to pull the fresh sheets over Bilbo’s tired. He took a moment to transfer the ring from his pocket into Bilbo’s – there was no knowing if the Hobbit would need it – before he stepped back. Bilbo snuggled under the covers, curling himself up into a ball.

“I will show you to your room now,” the guard said from behind Dwalin. The Dwarf gave his Hobbit one last reassuring glance before turning to follow the Elf.

The door slid shut behind him with a hiss. A loud beep echoed through the silent hallway. Dwalin and the Elven guard stood facing one another, a tense silence raising between them. And then it happened. The hairs on Dwalin’s neck stood up. His warrior’s sense – as Kili so often called it – was tingling. This was wrong.

The Elf moved faster than Dwalin could react. His hand flew up to strike him across the face, sending the Dwarf stumbling back into the wall.

“What are you - ?” Dwalin never got to finish the question. The Elf struck him hard in the solar plexus with two fingers and the Dwarf fell to the floor choking on his own breath. He clutched at his throat, trying in vain to find it again. A hand slammed down on the back of his neck. He collapsed completely to the floor. The blood pounded in his ears.

“Bastard,” Dwalin muttered into the floor. No matter how much he commanded his limbs to move they just wouldn’t obey. Strong hands slipped under his arms and dragged him upright. He found himself staring at the floor as the Elf guard dragged him away. Martin, no, _Bilbo_ was in trouble. And there was nothing he could do about it.

O.o.O

Legolas flinched as Tauriel slammed the door shut behind her. A tense silence filled the air between him, his father, and the two guards. His father, the Elvenking, didn’t seem the least bit fazed about the captain’s attitude. He simply turned to a small table and poured himself a glass of wine.

“Thandcrist,” Thranduil said, not looking up from the wine. “Send the Government a message. Tell them we have something of theirs that was found on a Khazad ship.”

“Yes, my lord,” the taller of the two guards said with a small bow. Legolas looked between the two, confused as to what was going on.

“And tell them it is urgent. I have no reason to keep it here any longer than it needs to be,” Thranduil said. He turned to the other occupants of the room, glass in hand. Legolas stiffened as his father’s eyes fell upon him. “Why are you still here, Thandcrist?”

“Apologies, my lord,” Thandcrist said. With one last bow, he hurried from the room. The doors slid open and shut after him.

“You look confused, Legolas,” Thranduil commented once the guard at left. Legolas turned back to look at his father, trying to judge the atmosphere. Some times were simply not good moments to ask questions.

“Why were you so interested in the child of the Rohan System?” Legolas finally asked, deeming his father calm enough. His father scoffed and took a sip from the wineglass.

“That,” he said when he finished the drink. “Was no child of the Rohan System. In fact, it was no Man at all.”

“The pilot said he was, though,” Legolas said in confusion. “He told us the boy had Elf blood in him.”

“And when have you ever known the Dwarves to speak the truth?” Thranduil asked. He set the wineglass aside on a table and descended the dais to stand before his son. Legolas craned his neck to keep eye contact with his father.

“I have never had the chance to encounter a Dwarf until now,” he admitted. “Though you have always taught me to never trust their word or action.” Thranduil smiled at that.

“And it appears you did not take my advice.” He patted Legolas on the shoulder before stepping around his son. “Leave us, Thalatoss.” The final guard in the room bowed once then left without a single word spoken. Once he had gone, Thranduil turned to his son. “The Dwarves lied to you, Legolas, as they have lied to many others in the past. That was no child of the Rohan or Gondor Systems. He has no ancestry in the Solar System. You could trace his blood back and you would not find a single gene.”

“Then what is he?” Legolas asked in confusion. “He surely is not a Dwarf and I have never seen an Elf that small, not even for a child.”

“You forget about one race,” Thranduil said, turning away. Legolas’ gaze fell to his father’s hand in time to see the ring on his left hand being twisted subconsciously between fingers. He never had learned where the ring came from, only that it was a precious gift. “Tell me, Legolas, have you truly become so blind as to forget about the smallest race in the universe? The _Perian_?”

“But the _Perian_ do not wander this far out,” Legolas said. He lifted his eyes to watch his father pace the room. “They are protected by the Government of the Free Peoples.”

“Indeed, and now the Dwarves have managed to steal a _Perian_ right out from under their noses. No doubt they mean to sell the poor creature on the black-market.”

“Why would they do that, though? The _Perian_ are a peaceful race.”

“Because Dwarves are greedy. They have forgotten the roots of the _Perian_ in the Harfoots. They will see nothing but profit with the poor creature.”

“You intend to send the _Perian_ back to his home?”

“What other choice do I have? It is where he belongs. Enough about the creature. Soon he will be another’s problem. Tell me, my son, why did I send you into space with the captain?” Legolas blinked at the question then fidgeted.

“To observe her competency as a captain of the ship,” he said. His father turned to face him, a cold look on his face. “I remained with Captain Tauriel for three months. Never before have I seen a more competent leader of a vessel.”

“This is not about what you think,” his father hissed. Legolas stiffened. His stomach twisted at the oncoming storm. “You were to report back to me about all changes aboard that ship. When you received a distress call from those Dwarves in space I told you to leave it be. You disobeyed my orders and boarded the Station.”

“You do not understand,” Legolas began, but his father cut him off.

“There was no reason for you to have been aboard that Station with the Dwarves.”

“Those Spiders-.”

“Would have left once they had finished. There was no reason to attack them. They leave us well enough alone if we leave them alone.”

“But those were not just Spiders,” Legolas argued. “There was a _Hên ned in Ungol_ with them. I saw him with my very own eyes.” Thranduil’s eyes widened at the word and he stepped back from his son. Legolas continued to speak, his voice urgent. “There was something about that Rohan boy, the _Perian_ , he wanted. I heard him taunt the creature before he was ready to attack it. He wanted to trade it to someone. I do not believe this is the work of the Dwarves.”

“You are a fool, Legolas,” Thranduil said softly. “The _Ungol_ never lets her spawn out of her sight. You were mistaken by what you saw. The _Perian_ is nothing more than a speck of dust in this great universe. He will blow away when his time comes and nothing will change.”

“Father-.”

“We are done here, Legolas,” Thranduil said, turning away. Legolas huffed at the belligerent attitude of his father. “There is nothing more to talk about. The Spiders are dead, the _Perian_ will return home, and you will remain grounded alongside Captain Tauriel and her crew until further notice. Now leave.”

“ _Ada_.”

“I said leave!”

Legolas froze at the furious shout. His father remained facing away, his hands clenched at his side. Father and son stood silent, neither willing to break the quiet air between them. Finally, Legolas gave his father a stiff bow before turning and leaving. The doors hissed open and closed for him. The lock sounded the moment they shut. Legolas ignored them as he made his way down the hall.

He had barely gotten into the inner gardens before a body landed behind him. He didn’t need to turn to see who it was. His friend had the habit of climbing walls and hiding in the corners of ceilings.

“That went well,” Tauriel said as she fell in stride beside her friend. Legolas didn’t answer, opting to watch the smallest sun of Erebor rise slowly on the horizon. Night had fallen. “What did your father say about the boy from the Rohan System? Why did he speak the Rohirric to him?”

“That was no child of Man,” Legolas said. Tauriel made a surprised sound. “He is a _Perian_ , a Halfling from the Shire System.” He didn’t notice Tauriel had stopped until several seconds passed. Turning, he saw his friend several yards behind him on the garden path. Tauriel blinked, shook her head, and then trotted to catch up with him.

“A _Perian_ ,” she repeated in an excited, breathless voice. Legolas nodded once. “Do we get to see him more? Will he be staying with us? How did the _Perian_ manage to get aboard the Khazad ship?” Legolas raised a hand, stopping his friend’s incessant questions.

“My father has had the Government hailed to come and retrieve the _Perian_.” Tauriel wilted at that. “But I think he is wrong to do so,” Legolas continued. Tauriel perked up in interest.

“Finally had enough with your father’s attitude?”

“This is no joke, Tauriel,” Legolas said with a frown. Tauriel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, causing the frown to deepen. “My father refused to believe there could have been a _Hên ned in Ungol_ aboard that Station. He thinks we should have never bothered to rescue the Dwarves.”

“What interest would either the Dwarves of a _Hên ned in Ungol_ have in a _Perian_?” Tauriel asked curiously. “They are a simple folk of the Shire System.” Hesitating, Legolas wondered for a moment how much his friend had been told. He glanced up and down the path before grabbing her by the arm and dragging her behind a series of bushes.

“Ouch,” Tauriel said when a branch sliced her cheek. She rubbed it, glaring at Legolas who ignored her.

“How much do you know about the _Perian_?” he asked.

“They are from the Shire System.”

“What else?”

“They are . . . from the Shire System.” Legolas groaned. “I was raised on the streets, Legolas. I never exactly had the time to learn about _Perian_ and how to dress for a banquet.”

“Then now is your chance,” Legolas said. Settling himself down on the ground, he prepared for the long explanation. “If you want to understand everything I am about to say then do not interrupt me.” Tauriel gave him a single nod in understand and seated herself down. Legolas took a deep breath and began speaking.

“The _Perian_ originate from three separate races: the Fallohide, the Harfoots, and the Stoors. The Fallohides were native to our own System. Our ancestors brought them over when they crossed. The Harfoots were native to the Khazad System and the Stoors to the Gondor System of the Numenor. These three races were peaceful and lived well on their own, never knowing about the other’s existence. We loved the Fallohide. The Elders still speak of the days when they would fill the gardens with their singing and flowers in the springtime.”

“What happened to them?” Tauriel asked in a soft voice. Legolas leveled her with a serious look.

“Sauron happened,” he said, and Tauriel winced at the name. “In the Thirty-seventh century he began his attempts to claim dominion over the universe. He created mass hordes of Orcs to haunt the skies and take out any who dared to defy him. Several years into his reign he found the Stoors in the Gondor System. He had every single one rounded up and taken away to the Ash Mountains in the southern part of the Khazad System. It was not long before he found the Fallohides and the Harfoots.”

“He took them all?”

“Aye, every last one. Some tried to resist him, but he won out in the end. Those _Perian_ he did not capture, he killed. He left none alive for us to cherish.”

“What happened to the ones he had?”

“He tortured them, experimented on them. There are mass graves where once the villages of the _Perian_ stood. Those graves . . . they do not even begin to equate to the number of _Perian_ the enemy killed. Once there were millions, then there were only a few hundred thousand. The Government rescued them with the fall of Sauron and took them away to an uninhabited System. There they thrived on their own until a plague struck. Mithrandir stepped in and requested the Government declare the System a sanctuary. The _Perian_ have lived there protected ever since. The Government has begun talking, though, about dissolving it. The _Perian’s_ numbers have hardly increased in the time of the sanctuary and it is doing nothing but eating their money. They cannot continue to support a hopeless project.” Tauriel blinked as Legolas finished his story. She scratched her nose. Blinked again. And then a wide smile spread across her face.

“Government conspiracy?” she asked. Legolas ducked his head in a nod.

“Perhaps.”

“Would you like me to hack into the database and see what I can find?”

“Aye, and in the mean time I will speak with the pilot we rescued, see what I can find out form him.”

“Excellent,” Tauriel said, leaping to her feet. She hurried from between the bushes. “The game is afoot, Watson!”

“Tauriel, quit watching those Solar System reruns!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I seriously wore those antlers all day at work yesterday and all day today at my aunt's house. I got them from a coworker yesterday. My mom told me to take them off because they look stupid, so I just wore them to spite her. And I'm still wearing them! And that's because Castor told me to take them off. ^^  
> There is no word for spawn in Sindarin, so I had to go with 'Child of the Spider'.
> 
> Merry Christmas!


	42. Jeopardized and Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I just caught a cold (so I'm tired now), I had to work yesterday, and I hung out with my friend the day before because I don't know when I'll see him next. But here you are! Let me know what you think! (And thanks to everyone who is updating!)

**Jeopardized and Judgment**

Kili tossed and turned in his bed, the drugged sleep leaving him in an addled state. Memories of the night before wove in an out through his dreams. His head ached, his joints whined, and his stomach churned about with what little he had eaten earlier.

_An Elven guard dragged Dwalin down the hall . . . Thorin and Balin were shouting, demanding to know what had happened . . . Kili struggled as the Elf behind him seized his hair . . . He kicked . . . He screamed . . . Something pierced the back of his neck and he collapsed to the floor . . . Fili shouted helplessly . . . Bilbo, Bilbo was in trouble . . . They had to save Bilbo._

Slowly, Kili’s addled brain began to comprehend a little more. The snippets of memory merged together to form a full thought. The Elves had attacked them after they had seen the semi-conscious Dwlain. They’d fought back and the Elves had forced them all into separate rooms. Kili remembered the pain of a needle then everything went black. How he had gotten onto the bed in the center of the room was beyond him.

A familiar sensation churned through Kili’s stomach. The bile burned the back of his throat. Rolling over on the silky sheets, he vomited over the side of the mattress. He coughed and shuddered at the terrible taste before rolling over and falling back to sleep. The drugs dragged him back down into their addled dreams. The images flashed behind his eyelids. They filled his thoughts, leaving him wondering about their meanings. Truly this couldn’t all be real.

_“You threw up.”_ Something cool pressed against Kili’s forehead. He rolled his head away from it with a moan. _“Are you alright?”_ The cool sensation returned.

“Amad,” Kili mumbled, turning away from the sensation once more. For a moment the ground felt as though it was shifting, and then it stopped. “Amad, stop,” Kili said before sighing. He just wanted to sleep.

_“Sorry, not your emel.”_

Kili had barely enough time to wonder at the words before freezing water pounded against him. Eyes flying open, he howled in both surprise and horror. The water bombarded against his forehead and chest. It plastered both his hair and clothes to his skin. He struggled to sit up but strong hands held him still.

“Let me go!” Kili howled, kicking out. The hands pressed him down harder against the cold wall.

“Would you stop struggling? I am trying to help you.” Kili kicked out at the voice. He continued to howl, spitting out the water when it filled his mouth. The contents of his stomach churned and he stopped struggling.

“Going to be sick,” he managed to choke out under the stream of water. His world flew topsy-turvy as the hands hooked under his armpit and dragged him from the shower. He found himself hovering over a toilet just as he vomited. The hands pulled his hair back, holding it out the way. Soft words were murmured in his ear as he finished being sick. Kili shuddered in disgust and cold. He accepted the tissue from his helper to wipe his mouth.

“Done?” Kili nodded to the question. “Good, prepare yourself.” He had barely a moment to tense before he found himself thrown back under the jet of freezing water. This time he was ready for the jet of chills and torture. He let the freezing water soak further into his clothes and drip down his back. In truth it made the terrible hangover sensation leave his body, almost like the detox Oin had forced him to go through two and a half years ago after the incident on Harad.

Several minutes later the jet of water stopped as quickly as it had started. Kili glared at his attacker through dripping locks of hair. The blond Elf from before, Legolas, stood in the doorway of the shower, his hand on the nozzle of the shower. He watched Kili with an intense look. Looking around, Kili discovered the Elf had seated him on a stool in the shower directly under the showerhead. The shower itself was spacious with a glass sliding door that had been propped open.

“Feeling better?” Legolas asked him. Kili shoved himself upright, stumbling sideways. He batted away the Elf’s hand when it was offered to him.

“No thanks to you,” he growled before stumbling out of the shower. There was a moment where he nearly tripped over the rim of the shower. Had Legolas not caught he would have ended up with a bloody nose.

“I was helping,” Legolas said. Kili caught the towel the Elf tossed to him and used it to ruffle his hair. “The guards administered a strong dose of _Morpheus Tartars_ to you.” Kili froze, the towel draped over his head. He lifted a corner to stare the Elf. Any and every living Dwarf knew that drug from the day they were born.

“Are they _crazy_?” he demanded. “We’re allergic to _Morphotar_. It shuts down our nervous system.”

“I know,” Legolas told him, crossing his arms. “I told the guards off for doing such a dangerous thing. Miluinesta and I worked together to prepare the antidote then gassed your rooms with it. I had not expected you to have such a . . . ill reaction to it.”

“It’s called detox,” Kili snapped before returning to toweling his hair. “We Dwarves don’t get sick very often, and when we do it’s not pretty. Our bodies tend to overdo it to get rid of things that aren’t supposed to be in our systems.”

“I know that now,” Legolas said. “I will keep that in mind.” An awkward silence fell between the Dwarf and Elf during which Kili tossed the towel aside. Finding his clothes too wet to wear, Kili began to strip himself down. He smirked when Legolas turned away at his bare chest.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here. You’ve done your job. I’m alive.”

“I brought you food.” Kili paused at the words. The tunic in his fingers slipped to the floor. There it pooled in the standing water. Legolas gave him a strange look.

“What kind of food?” Kili asked hoarsely.

“Fruit,” Legolas said unsurely, inching slowly out of the way. “A bit of meat. I think the kitchens sent up lamb.” At the mention of lamb Kili whooped joyfully and bounded from the room. If Legolas hadn’t made the wise decision to move earlier he would have been bowled over.

True to the Elf’s word, there was lamb waiting for Kili in the main room. The meat had been served on a silver platter, the plate placed delicately on a table. Strawberries, mangoes, and grapefruit decorated the plate. Kili immediately grabbed a strawberry and bit into it. The fresh juice tingled his taste buds and he groaned. He ignored the way Legolas watched him almost pityingly. His fingers sought out another strawberry and then a mango.

“I was told Dwarves did not appreciate fruit,” Legolas commented after Kili had eaten the entire mango. Kili paused, a piece of grapefruit at his lips. He turned to give the Elf a strange look. “My father said you only eat meat.”

“We eat fruit,” Kili said, savoring the flavor of grapefruit. “Actually, we love it. It’s vegetables we can’t eat.”

“Do you not like the flavor?” Legolas asked curiously. Kili shook his head. “Then what is it?”

“You ever given a dog chocolate before?” Kili asked. This time Legolas shook his head, a curious expression on his face. “Well, it kills them. Shuts down their liver or something. The same thing happens to us if we eat vegetables. Not really sure what is it, but we avoid vegetables at all costs.”

“And yet you can eat fruit,” Legolas commented, and Kili glared at him. He ignored the disgusted look Legolas gave him for the grapefruit juice running down his chin.

“Fruit provide us with the essential vitamins we need,” Kili said. “Scientists think we might’ve been allergic to fruit at one point but we evolved to survive.”

“That sounds a bit like us,” Legolas said, crossing the room the take a strawberry himself. He examined the fruit delicately against the light. “We Elves were once allergic meat before we left our own System. There are still Elves who cannot eat red meat for the sake of their hearts and high cholesterol.”

“I’m guessing your System didn’t have much meat, then,” Kili said. Legolas nodded as he took a bite from the fruit. “So . . . what are you doing here, anyway? I mean, besides bringing me food?” The Elf paused, the green head of the fruit dangling from his fingers. “Because you don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.”

“You are correct,” Legolas said. His eyes narrowed when Kili began tearing off bits of lamb and eating it. “I wished to speak with you.”

“About what?” Kili asked through a mouth full of lamb. Legolas’ glare increased and Kili swallowed. “Sorry. What’d you want to talk about?”

“The boy from Rohan,” Legolas said. Kili stiffened, a bit of lamb dangling from his fingers. “My father knows he is not a Man but a _Perian_. He has sent for the Government to collect him.” Kili swore harshly in Khuzdul, tossing the meat back onto the plate. Legolas gave him an appalled looked for the word but Kili ignored him.

“This is bad,” Kili muttered to himself. He brushed his dripping hair out of his face. “This is very, very bad.”

“I had a feeling you would say that,” Legolas said drily. Kili rounded on him to glare at the Elf but blinked when he saw a hint of confusion and pity in his eyes. “How did you manage to get a hold of the _Perian_? Why was the _Hên ned in Ungol_ after him? Why is he so important to you?” Kili blinked again before raising a finger.

“First things first,” he said. “His name is Bilbo and he likes being called a Hobbit. Second,” at this he raised a second finger. “Attercop was the one who kidnapped him in the first place. Bilbo was going to the Government to vouch for the Hobbits there. Attercop just happened to catch him on the way there and killed all his friends. Third,” another finger up. “We found Bilbo after Attercop’s crew abandoned him. Attercop wanted him back. I don’t know why. And fourth,” Kili raised his last finger. “Bilbo is ours, our Child of the Stars. He’s helping us take back Erebor. And then we’re going to save the Shire System.” Legolas quirked an eyebrow at the last point. “Any other questions?”

“Aye,” Legolas said, crossing his arms. “How would you feel about help from an Elf?” Kili blinked at the words. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it again, unsure of what to say. “My friend Tauriel and I have a feeling your friend Bilbo is in trouble. She is currently hacking into the Government’s database.”

“How does your friend know how to hack computers?” Kili asked curiously. He saw the hesitation in the Elf’s eyes. “Hey, it’s not like I can tattle to anyone at this point.”

“Tauriel was born on an outer moon,” Legolas said. “They were raided by Orcs and her parents were killed. Some space-urchins took her in and raised her to be a thief for them. She was nearing four hundred when the Government caught her on one of their missions. My father saved her from being sent to a home. He made her a captain of a ship in hopes it would help ease her joy for causing trouble.”

“No such luck?”

“None at all. Tauriel has always delighted in causing strife for my father. Her crew respects her unlike any other captain, though. I have never seen such a close-knit group before. Those Elves would follow their captain anywhere.”

“I’m guessing she’s in trouble for helping us on the Station,” Kili guessed. Legolas nodded before taking another strawberry.

“My father has grounded her and her crew for aiding you,” Legolas said after swallowing the bite of fruit. “He did not seem to care you were attacked by a _Hên ned in Ungol_.”

“Okay, what is that?” Kili asked as he reached for the lamb. “I’ve heard you say it before. Didn’t you say it’s the spawn of something?”

“It is the spawn of the _Ungol_ ,” Legolas said. “She runs the largest network on the black-market. Her children head the smaller webs within. They are violent and often merciless. Attercop has been known to be one of the worst of her spawn.”

“Great,” Kili groaned through a mouthful of lamb, earning himself another glare. “What are we supposed to do about that?”

“Nothing at the moment. Not until Tauriel finishes her research.”

“What were you saying about me?” Both Legolas and Kili turned in surprise to find the red-head standing in the doorway. She clutched a worn, black case in her hands. Her gaze flicked between the Elf and Dwarf. “I heard you say my name. What were you saying?”

“We were talking about your research,” Legolas said, turning to completely face his friend. “What have you found?”

“Plenty,” Tauriel said. Crossing the room in quick strides, she placed the case atop Kili’s head, ignoring his protests. Unable to see anything, Kili just crossed his arms and listened to the conversation.

“The Government did not initially know what the _Perian_ were,” Tauriel said.

“Kili says they prefer being called Hobbits,” Legolas interrupted. Kili rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting as the Elves continued.

“Very well,” Tauriel said. “They had no idea what the Hobbits were, so they abandoned them in the Shire System.”

“What about all our records?” Legolas asked.                                                                       

“Sauron wiped them all,” Kili said from his position under the computer. Legolas leaned over to meet his gaze. Kili winked at him. “The Government wouldn’t have known what they were.”

“Kili is correct,” Tauriel agreed, and Legolas straightened up. “After a short but thorough investigation the Government believed the Hobbits were a creation of Sauron, much like the Orcs or Balrogs. Not long after they left the Hobbits in the Shire System they administered a killing gas on the population.”

“ _What_?” Kili demanded in a near shout. He tried to move out from under the computer but Tauriel held him still.

“A third of the population survived,” Tauriel continued, a firm hand on Kili’s shoulder. “I believe these were the Hobbits with Harfoot blood in them. The Government found the Hobbits were quick to evolve to new situations, perhaps the quickest of all the races. They provided perfect lab rats for the Government’s experiments.”

“ _No!_ ” Kili shouted helplessly. His stomach twisted at the thought of Bilbo as an experiment.

“I am afraid so,” Tauriel said. She patted Kili comfortingly on the shoulder. “I found many experiments on the database. Some of them are abandoned or completely while others are in progress or in preparation.”

“What did you find about the ones in progress?” Legolas asked. Kili chewed a knuckle to stop himself from swearing.

“There are only a few. Apparently Mithrandir’s presence has stopped most of them. Martin is part of an experiment the Government has shown particular interest in.”

“His name is Bilbo,” Kili managed to say through gritted teeth. Tauriel didn’t say anything but she patted him on the arm again.

“What about this experiments” Legolas asked.

“The experiment studies the brain’s ability to take in and process information,” Tauriel said in a strained voice. “Bilbo is a secondary experiment. His mother was the one who was administered with the drugs but it had no effect. The Government sterilized Bilbo when they discovered what had happened and used him in the experiment instead. He has been noted to be able to learn a language in a matter of hours, memorize plans and maps, and even delay the sensation of pain for several hours.”

“What about the cons?” Kili asked fervently. “There have to be cons to the experiment.”

“There are,” Tauriel said, a tone of hesitation in her voice. “Bilbo, along with every other victim in the experiment, was noted to grow paranoid, distrustful, and cranky. They did not seek comfort from others as they often do and even went so far to isolate themselves completely. Night terrors were a common trait amongst them all.” Tauriel trailed off and a warning light went off in Kili’s head. Apparently Legolas had noticed it too.

“What are you not telling us, Tauriel?” Legolas asked.

“Bilbo is the only survivor of this experiment,” Tauriel said quietly. “Every other Hobbit committed suicide before their fiftieth birthday. They became paranoid to the point they saw an enemy in everyone around them.”

“Oh Mahal,” Kili moaned, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Bilbo is fifty.”

“Which is why the Government wanted to do a hands-on experiment with him,” Tauriel continued. “Mithrandir found out what was happening and saved Bilbo from any further harm. When the Government found out Bilbo was being sent as an envoy they chose to put their plan in action. Attercop was hired to kidnap Bilbo and put him through an intense situation. Afterward he was to bring Bilbo back to the Shire System were the Government would study him to see the effects of the incident.”

“A test,” Legolas said. Kili heard the anger carefully hidden in his voice. “If the Government manages to get a hold of Bilbo . . . they will kill him.”

“We have to get out of here,” Kili said. Moving out from under Tauriel’s computer, he turned to face the Elves. “We can’t let that happen. Bilbo will go crazy.” Tauriel held the case in her hands. She and Legolas shared a look. “Please, you have to help us,” Kili begged. “I don’t care what Thorin says. We have to get out of here before the Government comes.”

“We will only have a few days,” Tauriel said. “The Government’s ships have a warp speed none others have. They will be here before the end of the week.”

“Please,” Kili begged, hot tears pricking at his eyes. “Help us.”

“I am not my father,” Legolas said. He placed a firm hand on Kili’s shoulder. “We will get Bilbo out of here along with you and your crew. Tauriel and I will use tomorrow to think of a plan. You will have to trust us.”

“I do,” Kili said quickly.

“Just make sure the rest of your crew does as well,” Legolas said before turning to Tauriel. “We need to begin strategizing,” he said. Tauriel nodded. She bowed once to Kili then hurried from the room. Legolas gave the Dwarf a jerky bow and followed his friend out. The door locked behind them. Biting his lip, Kili wiped a tear away. They had to get Bilbo out of here before the Government came. All his hope was resting on the shoulder of two Elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have seen BOFA three times now. If I go again I'll probably go crazy. I love the movie, but next time I see it I'd like to be able to pause it when I want and take a break. Both our older sisters hated it but our dad loved the movie. I think that's because our sisters never got into Lord of the Rings like Castor and I did. Ah, well. I can't wait until April!  
> Also, I just found out that people are actually reading my story on Fanfic.net. :/ No one ever comments on it so I didn't know. I was actually considering taking it down from there.  
> Let me know what you thought!


	43. Vacating and Vigilant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No work . . . no school . . . no one home but me and Castor . . . Let's do this. >:D

**Vacating and Vigilant**

Four days passed. Four days during which Legolas and Tauriel watched the Crown of Durin circle round and round Erebor. The smallest Jewel, as it was called by the Dwarves, drew closer and closer to her sisters. By the end of the third day there were only fourteen days left until Durin’s Day. Both Tauriel and Legolas spent every waking minute they weren’t working trying to plan an escape for the Dwarves. Each would make a plan then confront the other only to have it shot down.

The Dwarves couldn’t steal a ship because Thranduil would land-lock before they left the atmosphere.

They couldn’t pass the Dwarves off as laundry because the Dwarves just wouldn’t like it.

They couldn’t sneak the Dwarves onto a ship and take it themselves because Thranduil had grounded Tauriel.

Several times Tauriel had to stop Legolas before he pulled his hair out. She would remind them of their task and they would return to planning. Their efforts were futile and by the evening of the fourth day Legolas was ready to give up. The Government would arrive on the Woodland Realm the next day and Bilbo would be taken away. They had failed.

“There is nothing we can do,” Legolas said, fisting his hair. Tauriel carefully unwove his fingers from the locks before he could make himself any balder. They had decided to meet outside the kitchens this time. Both their quarters were being watched and they couldn’t go near the guard’s rooms without being called out.

“We will think of something,” Tauriel assured her friend, and Legolas glared at her.

“How?” he demanded. “The Government’s ship will come tomorrow and we still do not have a plan. Bilbo and Kili were counting on us.”

“And we still have one day,” Tauriel pointed out. Legolas’ glare deepened. “Do not look at me like that. I have contacted a friend on Lake-Town he owes me for the time I took his children for a ride on the ship.”

“The bowman?” Legolas asked in disbelief. “What can he do?”

“One of their pilots owes him a debt,” Tauriel told her friend with a smug smirk. “We are both cashing our debts in. Bard the Bowman will get a hold of a ship for the Dwarves to use once we reach Lake-Town.”

“First we need to figure out how the Dwarves are getting to Lake-Town,” Legolas said. He leaned against the wall and sighed. “Tonight is our last chance at a direct route to Lake-Town. The moon will spin on its axis and we will have to wait another twenty-four hours. This is impossible.” Tauriel didn’t respond to that. A silence fell the two friends during which several canons shot off. Tauriel and Legolas watched the empty food-caskets rocket off into space. Tauriel’s eyes lit up with the familiar look of trouble. Legolas’ heart sank. He looked between his friend and the caskets.

“You have got to be kidding,” he said. Tauriel turned to him, the mad glint growing in her eyes. Legolas straightened up, shaking his head vigorously. “No, absolutely not. The Dwarves will never agree to it.”

“They have no other choice,” Tauriel said excitedly. “This is our last chance, Legolas. Lord Thranduil will never see it coming. Those Dwarves would be halfway to Lake-Town before he even suspected anything.”

“And how do you propose we convince the Dwarves this will work?” Legolas asked his friend, crossing his arms. Tauriel smirked at him before winking.

“We do not have to,” she told him. “All we need to do is give the keys to Bilbo and let him work with the Dwarves. They will listen to anything he says.” Legolas hesitated, chewing his lip, and Tauriel fell into a pout as she grabbed at his arm. “Please, Legolas. This plan will work. I know it!”

“Alright,” Legolas said, throwing his arms up in surrender. Tauriel whooped and trotted off down the path. “You get the keys! We will meet later tonight by the door!”

O.o.O

One day on the Station and four days on the Woodland Realm. Bilbo did the math in his head. They only had thirteen days until Durin’s Day. Bilbo ticked each day off using a small stone he had found, engraving lines in the wall. By the second day he had begun completely drawing on the walls out of sheer boredom. He drew circles and lines meaning nothing, entire blueprints of both Bagend and _the Arkenstone_ , and wrote the alphabets of Khuzdul, Rohirric, Sindarin, Quenya, Hobbitish, and Westron along the walls. They were a complete mess by the time he had ran out of room. A search for more space led him under the bed where he found carvings already there. One name in particular caught his attention.

_Bainrîn Took_

The name, as it clearly was, rang a bell in Bilbo’s mind. He couldn’t remember where he had heard it nor place it amongst his family tree. A further investigation brought him several dates carved into the wall. They were initialed with D.O.B, D.O.A, D.O.D, and so on. D.O.B Bilbo recognized as “Date of Birth” and he knew D.O.A to mean “Date of Adoption”. He had seen the acronym on plenty official forms back on Hobbiton. What the rest of the letters meant he didn’t know. The most recent date fell back over sixteen hundred years ago. It left Bilbo wondering who Bainrîn was.

Cold hands closed around Bilbo’s ankles and yanked him backward out from under the bed, jerking him out of his thoughts. He gave a great squeal of surprise. His fingers clawed at the floorboards helplessly. His attacker easily dragged him out, dumping his legs back on the floor. His arms were seized in tight grips before he could make a daring escape.

“Let me go!” Bilbo snapped, twisting in the grips. “I’m not going to eat the food! I don’t even like cashews!”

“Well that is a pity,” a voice said, and Bilbo froze. He didn’t recognize it as one of the guard’s. Opening one eye, he found himself face to face with Tauriel the red-headed Elf. She smiled at him. “Neither do I. They leave me feeling sick to my stomach.”

“Everything leaves you feeling sick to your stomach,” Legolas commented from somewhere behind Bilbo. The Hobbit tilted his head back to see the Elf with his arms crossed.

“Give me a break,” Tauriel said, glaring at her friend. “I am lactose intolerant.”

“And allergic to gluten,” Legolas pointed out. “And yet you continue to eat both.”

“They taste good!”

“That does not mean you eat it!”

Bilbo sighed and let his head fall back to the floor. It appeared nothing ever got done between these two Elves. He had long since given up the pretense of being a five year-old after the guards had given him blank stares. They knew what he really was. Bilbo sighed again when Tauriel and Legolas’ argument switched into Sindarin.

“Either of you know who Bainrîn is?” he asked. Neither Elf noticed him as they continued their argument. He switched to Sindarin. _“Who is Bainrîn?”_ The bickering finally ceased and the two Elves turned their attention on him.

“I have never heard the name,” Tauriel said.

“My father says it occasionally,” Legolas said, walking around to stand beside his friend. Tauriel straightened up and together they towered over Bilbo. “I believe it was a friend of his. He does not speak of her awesome.”

“Well blast it,” Bilbo said with a sigh. “I had hoped to have found something interesting.” Legolas frowned in confusion and Tauriel giggled, not even bothering to hide it. “What are you two even doing here? I haven’t seen you since the Station.”

“Kili asked us to help you and the crew escape,” Tauriel said. “Legolas is just angry enough with his father (“I am not!” Legolas indignantly) to help you.”

“Then you found a way for us to get out of here?” Bilbo asked hopefully. Tauriel nodded happily. Legolas, on the other hand, seemed slightly dubious about the whole idea. “Is it something I’m not going to like?”

“Barrels,” Legolas said in a hesitant voice.

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo said, frowning.

“Barrels,” Legolas repeated. “We send barrels out to Lake-Town to stock our stores with fish and vegetables. The Space Station up there has aqua farms where they breed fish and grow crops. Tauriel and I thought up a plan in which you and the Dwarves take barrels up to Lake-Town. You should be able to sneak there easily enough. We have a friend up there waiting for you.”

“I have already hailed Bard,” Tauriel said. “He is expecting you and the Dwarves with his barge.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to know where to go?” Bilbo asked. “I’ve been stuck in this room the entire time.” Tauriel smirked at his question and withdrew a thin stick from her pocket. She handed it to Bilbo.

“Access, blueprint,” she said in a clear voice.

_“Accessing,”_ answered a computer voice. Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up when a holographic screen dropped down from the stick. It showed him a direct blueprint of the building’s layout, including where the barrels were kept.

“You will want to take this route,” Legolas said, running his finger down a particular hall. “The guards will have already searched it. They will not go down that way again for another few hours.”

“Got it?” Tauriel asked. Bilbo nodded and Tauriel took the stick from him. The holographic screen slipped shut. She jammed it into her pocket. “Do you remember the way?” Closing his eyes, Bilbo brought up the image of the screen in his mind. He nodded again. “Excellent. Legolas and I are going to sneak into the hanger to steal a ship. We need you to get the Dwarves down to the barrel room. There you will load them each into the available barrels. You will have exactly thirty minutes before the last shipment is fired off.”

“Thirty minutes, got it,” Bilbo said. “How long will it take to free the Dwarves?” he asked the Elves.

“Depends on how quickly you move,” Tauriel said. She flashed a ring under Bilbo’s nose. “Press this against the keypads and the doors will unlock.”

“Good luck,” Legolas said. He held up a small device. A red _30:00_ flashed on it. “Your count begins the minute you leave this room. We timed our visit with the barrel loading.” Tauriel straightened up and the two of them hurried to the door.

“Better hurry,” Tauriel said over her shoulder as they vanished down the hall. “Godspeed.”

“Godspeed,” Bilbo murmured to himself before rocketing upright. He clutched the ring in the one hand while his other hand dove into his pocket. His special ring slipped onto his finger and he felt himself go invisible.

Hurrying to the door, Bilbo peeked back and forth. He drew back when a guard marched past. The Elf completely ignored the fact his door way open. A quick glance down showed Bilbo why. A small holographic projector had been set up – most likely courtesy of Tauriel – to display the vision of a door over the open space. The Elven guard disappeared around the corner. Bilbo darted from his room and turned right down the hall. His footsteps were silent as he crossed the several yards in only two and a half minutes. He gripped the ring in his sweaty palms, pressing the flat head of it against a keypad. A green line scanned it and the keypad flashed entirely green. The door slid open.

“Who’s there?” Bilbo’s heart leapt at the familiar sound of Kili’s voice.

“It’s me, Bilbo,” the Hobbit hissed, peeking into the room. Kili had already thrown himself from the large bed and was racing toward him. He pulled back just in time, narrowly escaping the barreling Dwarf.

“Are you wearing your ring?” Kili asked excitedly. “Did Tauriel and Legolas come up with a plan?”

“Yes and yes,” Bilbo said. “But we need to stay quiet. Help me free the others.” Kili kept a lookout for guards while Bilbo unlocked the other doors. Some of the Dwarves – Oin and Dwalin mainly – had to be convinced to leave their rooms while others – Bofur and Nori – were willing to trust the invisible voice of Bilbo Baggins.

“Who asked the pointy-eared bastards for help?” Dwalin demanded. “They’re the ones who did this to us in the first place.” Bilbo ignored him as he finally released Bifur from his room. The addled Dwarf had to be reminded four times by his cousins to be quiet.

“It was our only chance at an escape,” Kili hissed. Dwalin growled something Bilbo didn’t hear and the two fell into a ferocious yet quiet argument. Thorin and Balin both joined in. Bilbo rounded on all four of them just as Thorin called Kili “a shame-faced nephew of my hellion sister”.

“Would you all stop?” he demanded. Kili paused in the action of yanking his uncle’s hair out of his head. Dwalin froze where he had hooked his arms under Kili’s armpits. Balin just shook his head at the fight going on. “We only have twenty minutes left.”

“Twenty minutes ‘til what?” Bofur asked curiously.

“Until our escape fails,” Bilbo said. “Legolas and Tauriel worked hard to come up with this plan. They’re depending on it to go well.” Dwalin released Kili who regretfully let go of Thorin’s hair. The three Dwarves straightened up sheepishly.

“Lead the way,” Thorin said gruffly.

“This way,” Bilbo said, forgetting for a moment the Dwarves could not see him. When they looked around in confusion he yanked the ring off. Ori leapt sideways in surprise when he suddenly appeared beside him. “Sorry,” Bilbo said before gesturing down the hall. “This way,” he said again.

The hike down the hall took fifteen minutes. Bilbo’s heart pounded in his throat with every obstacle they ran into. There was one point when a guard marched past the hallway they were exiting. Dori managed to grab Fili at the last minute before the Dwarf could be spotted. They waited quietly for the guard to march away then continued on their way. Bilbo led them through the twisting turns of halls and stairs until at last they were in the barrel.

“I thought you were leadin’ us out,” Bofur said as he looked around the stock room they stood in. “Not further in.”

“Trust me,” Bilbo said quietly. He peeked around the stock room. The only Elves in the room were passed out at the table, seemingly too inebriated to work. “This will work.”

Crossing the stockroom floor, Bilbo searched the shelves until he found what he was looking for. Fourteen pristine casket – or barrels, as Tauriel had called them – were lined up in harnesses. They were silver, slender cases that resembled pea pods. Both ends sloped outward to a near point, rounding just at the tips to prevent any harm. Dwalin took one look at the barrels and rounded on Bilbo.

“You have got to be kiddin’,” he growled, already having figured out what was happening. Bilbo glared at him. “I’m not gettin’ in those.”

“This could be fun,” Kili said hopefully. Nori, Bombur, and Gloin all glared at him. “Or not,” he said sheepishly.

“You have to listen to me,” Bilbo said in a pleading voice. He checked his internal counter just to be sure. “We have three minutes before these barrels blast off. It’s our only chance to get out of this place.” When this did little to convince the crew he turned to Thorin. The captain stared at him for a second before nodding.

“Do as he says,” he ordered. Dwalin groaned but made his way toward a barrel. The rounded covers ran lengthwise down the barrels. They were easily slid open and the Dwarves clambered in before pulling the door shut after them. Bilbo and Thorin worked to latch the doors after them.

“It smells like apples,” Fili commented about his barrel, wrinkling his nose. His uncle just shoved him into the barrel and locked the door.

“Get in,” Thorin ordered to Bilbo. The Hobbit opened his mouth to argue then found himself man-handled into the barrel. He barely had a moment to voice his anger when the door slammed shut. The click of the lock echoed through the empty space. Thorin’s footsteps faded away from the barrel. Bilbo checked his internal stopwatch.

Thirty-seven . . . thirty-six . . . thirty-five . . . Thorin wouldn’t be able to latch the door of his barrel . . . thirty-three . . . How would he survive a jaunt in space? . . . thirty-one . . . Bilbo chewed his lip as he thought. There was no way for him to open his barrel and help Thorin with his. The Dwarf captain would have to help himself. Would he even be able to stay in the barrel? What if it opened while they were in space and the captain was sucked out? Bofur had once explained what being ‘spaced’ meant. Bilbo hadn’t liked the thought of it one bit.

Three . . . two . . . one. Bilbo sucked in a breath and waited. Nothing happened for several seconds. He heard the muffled voices of the Dwarves shouting to one another. Pounding feet approached the barrels. And then something clicked. A hissing sound filled Bilbo’s ears and suddenly the barrel rocketed downward. Bilbo flew upward, his head colliding hard with the flat ceiling. They were upside down . . . in ricocheting barrels . . . flying through space . . . _wonderful._

O.o.O

Tauriel paused at the sound of canons going off. Legolas nodded to her. The Dwarves had either made it to the barrels or they hadn’t. One way or the other, the two Elves needed to leave the Woodland Realm immediately. Tauriel returned to picking the lock of the hanger while Legolas kept watch.

“Got it,” Tauriel whispered. Straightening up, she removed the lock from and slid the hanger doors open. Legolas winced at the screech they released upon sliding along the rails. Tauriel stepped into the hanger, a smile growing across her face.

“Your majesty,” Tauriel said breathlessly. “You truly are brilliant.” Legolas leaned around his friend to see the ship resting on the bridge. It was a prototype his father had designed for the next generation of ships. _Memories_ , he called them. They were a complex ship made of two parts. The first part was the sphere-shaped cockpit in the center, large enough to hold two people: a pilot and a passenger. Four rods extended off the sphere in pair. Each pair supported large crescent-shaped wings. They encircled the almost completely, their tips just barely brushing each other.

“What beauties,” Tauriel said. She hurried forward, eagerly leaping onto a rounded wing. Legolas followed her quickly. Never before had he seen a ship quite like this. Once Tauriel reached the top of the large sphere, petals panels curled back to allow her entrance. She leaped down into the cockpit. Legolas fell in after her.

Within the cockpit there was only one padded chair. Its back curved along the shape of a spine. Both footrest and armrests were positioned for comfort. Two crystal spheres had been screwed into the very end of the armrests. A pair of curved beams ran out from the headrest. They stopped just bare of one’s peripheral vision. There was no console to be found. The inside of the cockpit was bare but for the wires and chair.

“Prepare yourself,” Tauriel told Legolas as she seated herself in the chair. She laid her hands carefully on the spheres. “For the ride of your life.” Lights within the cockpit flashed on from the floor up. The spheres glowed green and the bars of the headrest followed suit. Holographic screens flashed on all around Tauriel in her vision. Metal covers slid back to reveal windows all around the ship.

“Amazing,” Legolas breathed. “To think my father designed this.”

“Hold on,” Tauriel warned him. She drummed her fingers against the controls. “I want to see how fast this baby can fly.” The whir of the engine below them filled the cockpit with a buzz. Legolas gripped the back of the headrest, wishing for a moment he had his own seat.

“Completely mind-linked,” Tauriel murmured. “Your father has advanced farther than any other has.”

“Telepathic control,” Legolas sighed. “Perhaps my father needs to find a new hobby.” Tauriel chortled as the ship hovered off its stands. It inched its way toward the hanger doors.

“Now, as I said before. Hold on!”

Legolas had never scream so loudly in all his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll!


	44. Yacking and Yawning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mom is starting to get suspicious about all the typing I'm doing so I don't know if I'll be able to update another chapter today. :/ She doesn't know I write fanfiction for fun. She keeps asking me what I'm doing. I'll see what I can do, though.

**Yacking and Yawning**

Whoever said there was no sound in space was a downright liar. And maybe a thief. And probably a vagabond of some sort who needed to be incarcerated for both the safety of himself and those around. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. But they were still a downright, filthy liar, liar pants on fire.

Bilbo gritted his teeth and the whistling sound of air rushing past the metal casing. The barrel buffeted back and forth, knocking him to and fro. He’d made the wise decision moments before the shaking started to wrap his arms around his head. The choice saved him from a painful head bashing and years of therapy. Hopefully. The barrel jerked to the right and Bilbo connected painfully with the side. His shoulder screamed in protest at the beating.

“Blast it,” he said through gritted teeth. One near-biting-tongue-off moment was enough for him not to attempt speaking again. “Blast that Elves.” The barrel rolled over and he found himself flying along with it. This time both his elbow and adjacent hip moaned at the abuse. He would be bruised by the time his was over.

Bilbo didn’t know how long he remained in that twirling barrel. But by the end of it his teeth ached from remaining clenched for too long, his whole body twinged at the slightest movement, and he just wanted it to be over and done with. It was during a full corkscrew that the barrel came to a complete stop. Bilbo laid against the back of the barrel, his chest heaving with his pants. Ever so slowly the barrel inched downward until at last it suddenly dropped and clattered against a steel floor. Bilbo moaned at the jarring movement. It sent fresh waves of pain through his already bruised body.

A screeching sound filled the barrel and Bilbo tensed. The curved door slid open to reveal bright light. Bilbo squinted in the rays, trying to discern the shadow hovering over him. It appeared to be tall and rather furry. Not like any Elf, though. This one didn’t have their slinky and thin appearance.

“They didn’t tell me there would be a child,” a curious voice said. Bilbo flinched when hands reached into the barrel. They wrapped around his upper arms, irritating the bruised flesh there. “Easy, lad, I won’t hurt you.” The stranger dragged Bilbo upright and lifted him easily from the barrel. When set to stand on his own two feet, the Hobbit collapsed sideways onto the cold, steel floor. A chuckle resonated above him.

“That’ll happen when you ride barrels through space.” His eyes adjusted to the light, Bilbo could finally make out his savior. He was a tall man with both unruly dark hair and a dark mustache. His coat was lined with fur as well as his shirt. A longbow hung from around his chest, his quiver buckled tightly there.

“Bard,” the Man said, smiling at Bilbo’s bewilderment. “Bard the Bowman.”

“Martin,” Bilbo managed to squeak out. “Martin Freeman.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young master,” the Bowman said with a bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to free the rest of your friends from their barrels.” Bilbo managed a small nod while he trembled where he sat. Aside from the Dunedain and the Spiders he had never really seen a Man up close before. They scared him. This Man, this _Bard_ , could easily carry him without a second thought.

The sound of Fili retching caught Bilbo’s pointy ears. He peeked over his shoulder to see Bard supporting the vomiting Dwarf. Fili fell to the floor moaning about the stench of apples while Bard moved onto the next barrel. This one brought a furious Bifur swearing in Khuzdul. Bard had to leap back before the Dwarf tackled him in fear of his own life. Bofur was next, the engineer laughing like a maniac in stress-induced adrenaline. One by one the Dwarves were extracted from their barrels until they sat around moaning. Bard checked each Dwarf repeatedly, giving Bifur a wide berth, before he seemed to nod to himself and disappeared up a set of stairs.

“Who’s the bastard with two heads?” Dwalin asked, earning himself a cuff on the head from his older brother. “What?”

“Haven’t I taught you anything about the treatment of other races?” Balin asked before standing uneasily on his feet. Bilbo remained where he sat, trying to ease his pounding heart. Thorin stood from beside his barrel. He clutched one arm uneasily, as though it pained him.

“You taught,” Dwalin told his brother. “I just didn’t listen.”

“My time was wasted on you, then.”

“Ori, are you alright?” Dori asked as he moved in wobbly steps. His youngest brother raised a hand from behind his own barrel before the sound retching reached Bilbo’s ears.

“Is everyone alright?” Thorin asked in his deep voice. Bilbo stood on his own wobbly legs then promptly fell over once more. Nori chuckled, the only Dwarf apparently capable of standing on his own two feet. Even Thorin moved back and forth like a drunk.

“Ori’s just feeling a bit sick,” Dori said, having checked on his brother. “Motion sickness.”

“Apples,” Fili moaned. Kili howled with laughter, slapping his knees at his brother’s situation. “Apples. I can’t get the smell of apples out of my nose.” Bifur growled something and stormed around, checking each Dwarf over for himself. Bombur earned himself a right kicking until he managed to drag himself upright. Bifur patted Bilbo on the head and then moved on, apparently excusing him from the rough treatment.

“Feelin’ alright, Bilbo?” Bofur wheezed out.

“Just a bit sore,” Bilbo admitted. His friend gave him a worried look and he tried to smile reassuringly. “Not a Dwarf, remember? I got all bruised in there.”

“Poor buddy,” Bofur said, knocking Bilbo gently on the shoulder. Even that movement made Bilbo winced. Already the black and blue bruises were blossoming across his skin. Nori wandered past on his way to check on his brothers. He gave Bofur a fond kick in the thigh that Bofur returned to his ankle.

While he recovered, Bilbo took the chance to take in his surroundings. They were on the open deck of a spaceship. The walled railing that ran all the way around the curved point stood taller than Bilbo, perhaps at four feet. A cabin stood at the other end of the ship. Altogether it resembled a fishing ship of the twenty-first century. Although Bilbo was certain the bottom would not be as curved as they once were. There was probably an engine down there.

“Magnetic force-field,” Bofur commented. Bilbo gave him a questioning sound and the Dwarf motioned to the bubble-like shininess of the area above them. “They’ve used a magnetic force-field to protect the open deck. That way we don’t get sucked out into space.” Thorin stalked past, checking on each Dwarf in question. At the sound of Dori yelling at Bifur, Bofur hauled himself up to drag his cousin away. Bilbo was left on his own until Kili fell down beside him. The young Dwarf nursed a headache from Fili punching him between the eyes.

“Never,” Kili panted, slinging an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo winced at his aggravated skin. “Make fun of your brother when he’s throwing up.”

“I don’t have a brother,” Bilbo reminded the junior pilot.

“Right, I forgot,” Kili laughed before he fell backward. Bilbo found himself dragged back until they laid on their backs staring at the great expanse of sky. “What’s it like in the Shire System at night?” the Dwarf suddenly asked. Bilbo gave him a quizzical look to find Kili watching him curiously. “I mean, does it get dark there? You’ve got all those stars, right?”

“It’s not like you think,” Bilbo said slowly. Kili’s curious look turned eager and he sighed. “We have all the stars just like these.” Bilbo motioned to the sea of stars around them. “Small pinpoints of light that fall into constellations when we want to see them. But in the center of our System is a mass of stars, thousands of stars all grouped together to form one blazing light. I suppose they would look like a smaller sun to you. But to us we see a minute galaxy of beauty and wonder.”

“Amazing,” Kili whispered. “Did you know the Blue Mountains are so polluted with industrial gases that we can’t see the stars?”

“I didn’t,” Bilbo said.

“That’s right,” Kili said. He turned his gaze back to the stars. “Only the four suns are bright enough to shine through the smog. When Thorin asked if Fili and I wanted to fly the ship I was so excited. I finally got to see the stars.”

“Well I finally got to see the sun,” Bilbo sighed. He watched a particular constellation float past. “And what a beauty she was.”

“You know, I still remember when you tricked those trolls into thinking you were a child of the sun.”

“I convinced Gollum too, don’t forget about that.”

“That’s right! And we’re your great big guards made of diamond sent by your mother.” Kili laughed at the memory and Bilbo sighed again. So much for having an adult conversation with the Dwarf. The junior pilot eventually calmed down. “And to think it became true.”

“Huh?” Bilbo asked, turning his head to frown at Kili. The pilot just winked at him.

“You’re our child of the stars,” Kili said. “We’ll protect you at whatever cost. Even if that means fighting the Government.” Bilbo made a noise in the back of his throat. A silence fell, broken only by the shouting of the other Dwarves. Balin and Dori had both wandered off to find Bard in order to learn what was happening. Oin was tending to an ill Fili while Ori sat nearby, a modified ice pack pressed against his forehead. All was well. They were alive. Bilbo sighed contentedly and settled down, preparing for a well-earned nap.

A strong hand grabbed Bilbo by the front of the short and he yelped. He found himself dragged upward to his feet. The hand moved to his shoulder while the other covered his eyes. Bilbo flailed blindly, trying to understand what was going on.

“Thorin!” he heard Kili exclaim. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to show Bilbo something,” Thorin’s deep voice said from behind Bilbo.

“Can you do it without killin’ him?” Bofur asked from somewhere far away. Thorin chuckled and urged Bilbo forward. Bilbo moved hesitantly at first, his steps growing bolder when he didn’t immediately fall flat on his face. Thorin guided him along until at last he jerked Bilbo to a stop.

“Behold,” Thorin’s voice whispered in Bilbo’s ear. It twitched at the hot breath and sheer nearness of the Dwarf. “The Crown of Durin.” The blinding hand drew away from Bilbo’s eyes. Bilbo blinked several times in the bright light. Several seconds passed before understanding dawned on him and his eyes widened.

A great mechanical contraption floated in the outer space. It was a Space Station of many levels. Lake-Town, Bilbo supposed. But that wasn’t what caught his gaze. It was the six suns that burns behind the Station. Each burned brighter than the last. This close up, he could make out the whirling fires of the exploding stars. They ropes of magma reached out to one another as though calling out to old friends. The first in the line was clearly the largest, the second slightly smaller, the third even smaller, and on and on. The seventh sun Bilbo could see just poking her head around the edge of what must have been Erebor. The great planet stood alone in the center of the swirling suns, her face painted blue and green.

“They are sometimes called the Seven Jewels,” Thorin said, smiling at Bilbo’s astonishment. “Or even the Seven Sisters. When all seven arise in the sky together it is Durin’s Day.”

“That’s amazing,” Bilbo whispered. Thorin chuckled at that and he ignored the Dwarf. Never before had he seen such beauty. “How do you sleep at night?”

“With black-out curtains,” Thorin said. “It is the same on the Blue Mountains with the suns in the summer.”

“No, I mean, how can you sleep when there’s such beauty out there to watch? I wouldn’t want to miss a single moment of it.”

“I suppose I just took it for granted,” Thorin said. Bilbo peeled his eyes away from the suns to see his friend’s soft smile. “In the center of those suns lies Erebor our planet. The Lonely Mountain was our home. At its base is the Men’s colony of Dale. The colony flourished for as long as we survived before the coming of Smaug. I suppose the survivors fled out here and joined the colony of Lake-Town.”

Bilbo looked back to the ever-nearing Space Station. Bits and parts of it seemed to hanging by the wires within. The metal paneling had rusted over. Several shattered windows had been replaced by black metal plates. It was perhaps four stories tall and in the shape of an eight-pronged wheel. Each spoke ran outward and connected with one of four geometric rings.

“That doesn’t look very good,” Bilbo commented. Thorin gave him a questioning look and he motioned toward the Station. “I mean, it’s falling apart. Shouldn’t the Government do something about it?”

“Lake-Town is considered an outer planet,” Thorin said. “A surviving colony. Like many others they are left here with the bare essentials of farming to fend for themselves. Some do not make it past the first year due to either illness, starvation, uprisings, or Orc attacks. The Government worries more for their precious Gondor System and the Shire System.”

“Yes, well, we’ve seen how that turned out,” Bilbo said, earning himself a chuckle from Thorin. The Dwarf mussed his hair. Bilbo gave him a smile. “You think I’ll ever be able to go back?” At this, Thorin’s smile faded slightly. The Dwarf sighed and leaned against the railing, turning his gaze back to the Crown of Durin.

“I cannot say,” he said. “I hope to gather the seven houses of the Dwarves and rescue the Shire System. That is a battle against the Government.” Bilbo’s face fell. He knew it would have been too much to hope. A hand clipped him on the chin. “But that does not mean we will not try.” Bilbo couldn’t help but smile sadly at that.

“Ahoy,” a voice called. Both Thorin and Bilbo turned to see Bard leaning out the open window of a ship. “You’d better get back on the deck behind. We’ll be landing soon and the Master doesn’t take kindly to unwanted guests.” Thorin gave the Man a small bow and the Bowman disappeared back through the window.

“Guess we better go back,” Bilbo said. Thorin nodded to him and he smiled. “Thank you, Thorin, for showing me that. It’s beautiful.” The Dwarf smiled at him before gently urging Bilbo back the way they had come.

The crew of _the Arkenstone_ gathered on the deck. Dwalin and Gloin had worked together push the barrels up against one wall where they were stacked neatly. Fili still had a green tinge to his face. He glared whenever his younger brother poked fun at him. Thorin left Bilbo’s side to speak with Balin in low tones about something or another, Bilbo could not say. He didn’t really care at the moment. All that mattered was they were once again on their way to Lake-Town.

Bard made them wait until nightfall before leaving the ship. Every question the Dwarves asked was countered with “the Master doesn’t like guests”. In exchange for his secrecy, Bard only asked after Bilbo once. Both Balin and Dori hurried to explain that “Martin” was a boy from Rohan they were taking to Lake-Town to find his family. Bard seemed to accept the answer readily enough, only giving Bilbo a testing look. Bilbo felt as though the Bowman was thinking through every Freeman he knew to find his family members. He prayed the Man wouldn’t discover the truth.

The Seventh Jewel finally wormed her way entirely into the limelight, her sisters moving slowly around the edge of Erebor. Night fell. Bard motioned for the Dwarves and Bilbo to follow him off the ship. They made their way as quietly as they could through the halls. They were perfectly square structures with nearly a foot of diagonal metal connecting each side. The wallpaper peeled, the pain chipped, and the rust flaked off the walls. Bilbo thought he spotted a rat scurrying away down a hall. Wonderful, disease-infested rats lived on the ship. Many of the walls on connecting spokes were made of windows – most intact while others were completely shattered and replaced – and Bilbo could see the suns outside and the Woodland Realm on the other side.

They made their way down one spoke until Bard ushered them all into an elevator. Bilbo felt a nauseous feeling of claustrophobia fill him when they were all packed in like sardines. Bard pressed a button and the elevator screeched downward. The Man continued to shoot a yellow light nervous glances. At Bilbo’s questioning look, he smiled.

“There’s a curfew,” he explained. “We’re reaching the limit. Once that light turns red we’ll be in real trouble.”

“What sort of trouble?” Kili asked curiously.

“Arrested sort of trouble,” Bard said before turning back to the elevator doors. “And I’ve got kids at home.” None of the Dwarves said anything about that. Bilbo spotted Gloin and Bombur sharing nervous looks.

The elevator took them all the way to the bottom of the Station. The doors opened with a soft ding and Bard led them quietly down another series of halls. These halls were lined with sliding doors inscribed with words in Westron. Bilbo tried to read them but they were moving too quickly. Eventually they reached a particular door that Bard stopped at. The name had long since chipped off the door. Instead four pieces of paper had been taped to the surface.

_Bard_

_Bain_

_Sigrid_

_Tilda_

Bard swiped a card through a scanner that flashed green. The door slid open with a loud screech. Almost immediately a young girl through herself at the Man.

“Da!” she squealed happily. Bilbo blinked in surprise at the small size. Bard chuckled and patted the girl on the head while at the same time ushering her back into the room. He waved the Dwarves in quickly and the door slid shut behind them.

“Da!” another voice said. An older girl and a boy hurried from separate rooms to hug their father. Bilbo smiled at the joy on the children’s faces. Even Thorin and Balin were chuckling, possibly at memories of Fili and Kili. Eventually the smallest girl turned to see the Dwarves.

“Dwarves!” she said, her tone rising in her excitement. “Will they bring us luck?”

“We’re not those kind of Dwarves,” Bofur said, and the girl’s face fell. “Ya see, we brin’ things like this.” From within his jacket pocket he withdrew a small carved dog. The girl’s face lit up as the Dwarf passed it to her. She caressed the toy reverently.

“What do you say, Tilda?” Bard said to his daughter.

“Thank you,” Tilda said in a shy voice before hiding behind her father. Bofur chuckled and swept his hat from his head, falling into a low bow.

“Yer most welcome.”

“This is Tilda,” Bard said to the Dwarves and Bilbo, patting his youngest daughter on the head. “And Sigrid and Bain.” The two elder siblings gave a bow and a curtsy, each of which the Dwarves returned. Bilbo himself felt too stiff to do any bowing anytime soon.

“Why’d you bring Dwarves home, Da?” Bain asked curiously. Bard shot his son a withering look, but Balin just chuckled. Clearly the child hadn’t left his curious stage of questions.

“Your father was helping us,” Balin said.

“That’s right,” Bard spoke before the Dwarf could go any further. “A few friends of mine asked if I could find their Dwarven friends a ride off the Station. They’ve lost their own ship.”

“Lost it?” Tilda repeated. “How?”

“By a great, monstrous black-hole!” Bofur said, raising his hands and baring his teeth like a monster. Tilda squealed in delighted fear and behind her father. Her head poked out, though, a clear invitation for Bofur to continue. And continue he did. Even Sigrid and Bain were drawn in by the story.

“There we were, mindin’ our own business,” Bofur said, embellishing the story with a few hand gestures. “When the captain gave a great shout!” He wove a story of great magnificence that had even Bilbo listening intently. He missed the way Kili watched him sadly or how Balin spoke to Thorin in muted tones.

Nearly twenty minutes had passed before Bofur finished his story of them abandoning ship while the black-hole devoured it whole. By that time Tilda had to be carried away toward her bedroom in the corner with Sigrid following after. Bain disappeared into his own room that Bilbo supposed Bard shared with him. With less people in the room, it gave Bilbo a chance to really look around.

The room was large and square. Where they stood appeared to be the living room, curling carpeting beneath their feet. A battered old set of couch and armchair were pressed up against the wall. An equally beaten coffee table sat between them. A stack of books had been tucked away in the corner. On the other side of the room was the kitchen. A set of counters lined the wall, the refrigerator and stove standing alone on another wall. A table set for four had been positioned just before the two bedroom doors. It was small, Bilbo surmised, too small for growing children. They needed fresh air and the joy of running through land unburdened. These were no proper living conditions.

Bard returned from putting Tilda to bed. He handed out spare blankets to the Dwarves, apologizing for the lack of pillows. The Dwarves accepted them graciously. All apologies for the pillows were waved away and Bilbo even saw Balin pressing coins into Bard’s hands. “For payment,” the old Dwarf said. “Use it for your lad and lasses.” The coin was tucked away before Balin could change his mind. Bard bid the crew goodnight and retired to his room with Bain for the night. The Dwarves situated themselves on the floor. Bilbo found himself tucked between Dwalin and Fili. The taller Dwarf wrapped him tightly in a blanket, claiming Bilbo would just steal them in the night.

“I resent that!” Bilbo hissed angrily. Dwalin just mumbled a _Pundurith_ , finished wrapping him, and patted him on the head. Bilbo gave in with a glare, settling down for a good night’s sleep. He was drifting before he’d even realized it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so all we've got left is leaving Lake-Town for Erebor and trading riddles with Smaug, and then we're done with the Desolation of Smaug. Then we've got the Battle of the Five Armies and we move onto the Battle for the Barrow Downs. Oops, did I say that out-loud?


	45. Keepers and Kindliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, another set of chapters because I have nothing better to do. My cold has settled in but I'm taking medicine so I can actually sleep at night. Deep breath, everyone!

**Keepers and Kindliness**

The _Celebgîl_ were fast but the _Bainrîn_ was faster. The arrowhead-shaped ships were no match for the rounded speeder. She flew through the air with speed of an exploding star. Nothing could have hindered its journey but the fury of a Balrog. Tauriel easily outstripped the _Celebgîl_ before they had even left the atmosphere of the Woodland Realm.

The journey to Lake-Town would have taken a matter of hours with the speed of the new ship. With Tauriel as the pilot it would have taken even less time, thanks to her quick decisions and ease with a joystick. This was not a time for speed, though. Tauriel chose to follow the journey of the barrels rather than head immediately to Lake-Town. Only once she was certain Bard had caught the barrels did she turn the ship toward the Man colony.

Docking at the Space Station was easy enough. The guards on duty in the early morning accepted the Elves’ arrival without question. Though they did show a keen interest in the new ship, asking after its design. Legolas was quick to put an end to the questions. Tauriel chose to lock the ship down. No one but she or Legolas would be able to get in. Once the Men had logged in the arrival of their ship, the Elves made their way to the cafeteria.

“Are you sure this will be enough food?” Legolas asked in a soft voice, carrying a stack of tins.

“They are Dwarves,” Tauriel answered as she balanced her own tower. She had opted to take several more tins than Legolas, successfully turning it into a competition. “They will eat anything.”

“Except for vegetables,” Legolas said. Tauriel gave him a confused look and he hurriedly explained. “They are allergic to them. It shuts down their livers and kills them.”

“Ah,” Tauriel said wisely. “Much like your father and red meat.”

“Never remind me of that again.” Tauriel laughed at Legolas’ shudder but did not mention it further. Legolas would never be able to forget the time his father decided to eat red meat when he got incredibly drunk at a festival. That had not ended well in the least bit with a trip to the medic and a stomach pumped.

Tauriel led Legolas through the halls of the Lake-Town. They ran into plenty of guards, all of whom greeted them warmly. Several times they had to stop and exchange pleasant conversation. Many of the guards wanted to know the goings on of the outside world. They were eager for the next rotation when they got the chance to leave the colony for the Rohan System or Gondor System once more.

By the time they reached Bard’s quarters on the lower levels it was well past sunrise. Tauriel did the honors of knocking on the steel door softly. Several seconds passed, all of them filled with muffled curses and soft shouts, before the door slid open. Bard peered through the crack, his face softening with relief at the sight of the Elves. Sliding the door further open, he stepped aside to grant them entrance. Together, Tauriel and Legolas stepped into the quarters. Bard allowed the door to shut behind them.

“Tauriel!” Kili exclaimed in a soft voice. Tauriel smiled warmly to him as she moved to set the tins on the table. Legolas followed her example, placing his own smaller tower beside hers. Tauriel took the first tin from her tower and ripped the cover off. Her nose wrinkled at the smell.

“Stir-fry,” she said. Several of the Dwarves in the room shuddered. Taking a fork, Tauriel poked around in the food. “There appears to be orange and pear pieces in here, no vegetables.”

“That should be fine, then,” Bofur said, taking the tin from Tauriel. He grabbed a plastic fork and dug into the breakfast. From the sounds he made, it was at least halfway decent.

Tauriel, Bard, and Legolas worked together to pass out the tins and forks to the Dwarves. There was a moment of terror during which Ori ate a piece of broccoli. Tauriel was quick to take the Stir-fry from him and remove all the vegetables while Oin checked over the lad. Nothing terrible happened besides Ori wailing that he was going to die while Nori howled with laughter. And then there was Fili. The pilot steadfastly refused to eat the Stir-fry he had been given because it had apples in it. Thorin eventually traded his own for his nephews due to the walnuts in his. In the end, no one died and everyone had something to eat.

“There is one left,” Legolas commented when he saw the tin. He turned and scanned the entire room, counting the Dwarves. “Where is Bilbo?”

“There is no Bilbo,” Bard said in confusion. “Only Martin. He was still asleep when the Dwarves woke up so I moved him to my bed.” Legolas looked to Kili who smiled sheepishly through a mouthful of rice and orange pieces. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” the Man asked the Elves. He turned to Tauriel. “I’m willing to help you with what you need, but I won’t do it blindly.” Tauriel and Legolas shared a look before turning to Thorin. The Dwarf captain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Do we have a choice?” Thorin asked the Man.

“Not unless you want me to tell the Master,” Bard answered, and Thorin groaned.

“Very well,” Thorin said. “Is there somewhere we may speak in private?” Bard motioned to the set of furniture in the living room area. Thorin barked soft orders not to be disturbed then moved with Tauriel, Legolas, and Bard to sit down on the furniture. Legolas and Tauriel seated themselves on the sofa while Bard sat in the armchair, the stuffing spilling from the seams. Thorin opted to stand before the coffee table, his hands clasped behind his back.

“There is no Martin Freeman,” he began to explain. Bard snorted softly and the Dwarf glared at him.

“Sorry, go on,” Bard said. Legolas couldn’t help but smile to himself. He had a feeling these two had been fighting since they’d both woken up.

“There is no Martin Freeman,” Thorin started again. “Nor a child of the Rohan System. His real name is Bilbo Baggins and he is from the Shire System.” Bard’s eyebrows rose at that but he made no comment. “We found him last month on a _Speeder 180_ in a cryo case. If we had not rescued him then he would be dead right now.”

“What was he doing on a Man’s ship?” Bard asked, looking between the Dwarf and Elves. Thorin looked at a loss for words, as though trying to find a way to explain something he himself didn’t understand. Legolas nudged Tauriel gently with his leg.

“Why not tell them what you learned?” he said. Both Bard and Thorin turned their attention on Tauriel who flushed slightly and sat up straighter.

“The Government has been using the Hobbits for experimentation,” she said. Bard choked and Thorin’s eyes widened in horror. “The Hobbits evolve quicker than any other race in the universe. Bilbo is part of a large-scale experiment to study the brain’s ability to take in and process information.”

“Why would they do something like that?” Bard asked softly, the horror clear in his voice.

“Hobbits and Men share a very similar DNA pattern,” Tauriel explained. “I believe the Government wishes to find a way to evolve their own race quicker. Bilbo is the only survivor of the experiment.”

“What happened to the others?” Bard asked. Thorin looked at a loss for a words.

“They committed suicide,” Tauriel said, and Thorin made a strangled sound. “Mithrandir was sending Bilbo Baggins to act as an emissary at the next Government talks. The Government took the chance to launch a real-life experiment. Attercop was hired to kidnap Bilbo, put him through extreme conditions, and then return him to the Government for data.” No one said anything for several minutes. Legolas shifted uneasily in his seat. Eventually, Bard rubbed his hands together then clapped them, the loud noise in the silence causing the others to jump.

“Well, now we know why he was on the ship,” the Man said. He turned to Thorin. “What are you doing with him? Why were you on the Woodland Realm?”

“We were attacked by Attercop and his men on the Greenwood Space Station,” Thorin said. “The Elves rescued us but Thranduil chose to imprison us.”

“My father had called for the Government to collect Bilbo before we helped them escape,” Legolas interjected. Thorin gave him a terse nod then continued on with his explanation.

“My crew and I intend to take back Erebor,” Thorin said, raising a hand when Bard made to interrupt him. “With the Arkenstone in hand I can declare war upon the Government and rescue the Shire System from their hands.”

“Haven’t you heard the prophecy?” Bard demanded. Thorin frowned in confusion while Legolas continued to shift uneasily. The Elves knew the poem by heart. Bard recited the words for the Dwarf:

_“The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,_

_The King Beneath the Mountain shall come into his own,_

_And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King’s return,_

_But all shall fail in sadness and the lake shall shine and burn._

“You will destroy everything in the universe if you go into that mountain,” Bard said stiffly. Legolas sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He heard the terse voice of the Dwarf speak.

“We have no choice,” Thorin said. “I need the Arkenstone to take down the Government.”

“Isn’t there another way?” Bard asked. “Can’t you gather your armies without it?”

“They will not listen,” Thorin said. Legolas glanced up to see the Dwarf captain in a defensive stature. “I have tried multiple times but no one will follow my orders unless I am truly the King Under the Mountain.” Bard rubbed his face, sighing, before he turned to Legolas who straightened up.

“And what about the Elves?” he said. “Can’t you protect the Hobbit from being taken away?”

“My father would have nothing to do with it,” Legolas said. Bard sighed again. “We need your help to get the Dwarves to Erebor.”

“I have contacted my friend like you asked me to,” Bard said slowly. Tauriel shifted excitedly in her seat. “He is out on one of the farming outposts. He won’t be back for another ten days.”

“That leaves us with one day to get to Erebor,” Thorin said hoarsely. Bard nodded once.

“Aye, but it’s the best I can do,” the Man said. “You’re welcome to stay here if you wish or get yourself captured by the Master. He won’t be very pleased, I can tell you that much.” Legolas and Tauriel looked to each other nervously. Thorin sighed and scratched his beard.

“We have no other choice,” he said. “The trip from here to Erebor should take less than a day. We could get there before the end of Durin’s Day.”

“Legolas and I could scout around the Station,” Tauriel offered. “The Men here are used to us wandering about.” Thorin gave her a grateful nod. “We could drive away any curiosity of the Master and his men.”

“In the meantime, you can make yourselves at home here,” Bard said. “I work on the barges with Bain but Sigrid and Tilda will be home.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said, bowing. “Your hospitality is more than we could ask for.” Bard gave him a single nod before standing from his seat to wander toward the bedrooms. Legolas watched him go with a heavy heart. He was starting to think the plan would actually work.

.o.

Slowly the days passed. Bard and Bain came and went with their jobs, keeping the secret of the Dwarves safe from those outside. Tauriel and Legolas scouted throughout the Station. They brought breakfast and dinner to the Dwarves from the cafeteria each day. With each passing meal Ori became more and more convinced the Elves were trying to poison him. It got to the point Nori or Dori had to search his food before he would even look at it. The vegetables were too common in his food.

Several times the Dwarves had to stop Bilbo from doing something that would anger Bard. When he was founding fiddling with a toaster, Fili grabbed it from his hands and gave him a string. Both Kili and Bofur on separate occasions had to drag him away from keypads and computer screens. Each time they had to explain it to Bard: when left to his devices in boredom, Bilbo was devastating. He would destroy their quarters by the end of the day. Bard found the solution when he brought home a series of puzzles for Bilbo to play with.

Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin planned their next moves carefully. Bard managed to give them the layouts of the ship. The layouts were looked over then passed over to Bofur and Bifur and then Kili and Fili. Both the engineers and pilots had the blueprints memorized by the end of a week. They could fly the ship without a problem. The captain of the ship worked with his first-mate and guard to plan their flight direction and then what they were going to do once they reached the mountain. Bilbo would undoubtedly have to be the first one to enter the mountain. No one knew if Smaug was still alive or just sleeping.

Ten days passed without any major issues. Bilbo found himself locked away in rooms, Thorin plotted, Bard worked, and the Elves snooped. Nothing could have gone wrong. Until the evening of the last day when it did.

The Dwarves were relaxing in the main area of the quarters. Dwalin had opted to teach Bilbo how to use his sword. _Sting_ , Bilbo had chosen to call it, had been rescued by Legolas who had snuck back onto the Woodland Realm. It was in the middle of the training when the door slid open. Bard hurried, a wild look in his eyes. Almost immediately Thorin was on his feet.

“The Master knows about you,” Bard said before anyone could ask questions. Bilbo nearly dropped his sword in his fear. Dwalin swore under his breath and looked to Thorin for direction.

“What do we do?” the Dwarf asked. Strange territory gave him no idea of what could happen.

“My friend’s returned from his time on the outpost,” Bard said. Hurrying over, he dragged both Fili and Kili to their feet. “Tauriel and Legolas are loading the ship with supplies right now. If we hurry, we can beat the guards there.”

“Everybody up,” Thorin barked. Bofur leapt to his feet, almost knocking Nori over when the thief took his time. Gloin pulled his older brother to his feet. Bombur took both his brother and cousin’s help to get to his feet. “Lead the way,” Thorin said to Bard once they were ready.” Bard gave one terse nod before he hurried from his quarters. The Dwarves followed him quickly. Dwalin paused for a moment to have Bilbo climb onto his back.

“You’ll slow us down if we let you run,” Dwalin growled out. Bilbo huffed, taking the words as an insult, but climbed on Dwalin’s back all the same. Bofur, Dori, and Nori took up positions around Dwalin to act as guards.

Bard led the way through the winding halls, moving at a quick pace. The Dwarves had to trot to keep up with him. Several times he had to backtrack due to the sounds of pounding feet coming their way. With every passing minute Bilbo could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He half expected a group of guards to be waiting for them around each corner. Instead of taking the elevators, Bard opted to lead them up sets of stairs. The amounts of turns they took lessened with each stairwell they ran up. Eventually they ran in a straight line.

“We’re almost there,” Bard panted. Thorin kept an even stride with the Man, his eyes set straight ahead.

“You there, halt!” a voice shouted. Bilbo peeked over his shoulder to see four guards running after them. They wore fur coats much like Bard’s and rounded metal helmets. Each guard clutched a baton in their hands. Bofur followed his gaze and blanched.

“They’ve got sonic batons,” he shouted to Thorin who swore. Bilbo had a moment to wonder what that could possibly mean when one of the guards aimed his baton at them and pressed a button. A wave of energy pulsed over the group, narrowly missing Dwalin’s head. It rustled Bilbo’s hair.

“Keep moving,” Thorin ordered. “We can make it!” The group increased their speeds, the guards continuing to shout after them.

“In the name of the Master, halt!”

“We’ll have you, Bard!”

“Stop them!”

Another group of guards rushed out from a side hall directly before their larger group. Bard bent down and flipped one of the guards over his shoulder, hardly missing a step. The guard landed hard on the floor groaning and the Dwarves leapt over him. Bilbo had to cling on when Dwalin leapt over the Man, another sonic pulse flying over their heads. These Men had no aim whatsoever. Both Balin and Oin knocked out the last two guards barring their way before they raced on.

The Dwarves, Man, and Hobbit raced through a final doorway and into the shipyard. It was a large, round space at the center of the Station. There were four levels of catwalks. Doors lined the wall between each of the eight spoke entrances. Green and red lights flickered above the doors, announcing whether they were free or occupied.

“This way,” Bard ordered, hurrying right down the catwalk. Men moved out of his way with tips of their hats. The kind gestures turned to shouts of surprise when they saw the group of Dwarves following their friend. Even more shouts rose when the guards raced through the door. They shoved their way through the growing crowd, shouting after Bard.

Legolas and Tauriel were waiting for Bard at a door lit red. The two Elves shifted impatiently where they stood, waving the group on when the guards drew too close. A moment passed during which a guard grabbed Ori by the arm. Legolas leapt onto the railing of the catwalk and raced down it gracefully, kicking the Man in the head. He leapt down onto the floor, barring the passage of the guards. Bard came to a stop beside Tauriel. Together they waved the Dwarves onto the ship. Thorin paused for a moment to speak with the Man.

“Thank you,” he said. “You have helped us more than you will ever know.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Bard said. His eyes flicked up to where Legolas sparred with the guards. “You’d better leave too,” he told Tauriel who nodded.

“Legolas and I will take the _Bainrîn_ and head for Erebor.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Kili asked, stopping where he stood. Dwalin swore and shoved the younger Dwarf on, though Kili turned so he could continue to watch Tauriel.

“This is not our quest,” Tauriel said, a sad smile on her lips. “But I will help if I can when you ask.” Thorin bowed low to her and she returned it before waving him onto the ship. Bombur, the last Dwarf to board, pulled the door shut after them. A press of the red button locked it and they were ready to go.

Kili disappeared through a doorway, his brother having already headed for the cockpit. Bofur and Bifur threw themselves down the hatch toward the engine room. Kneeling down, Dwalin let Bilbo slide from his back.

“That was a close one,” Ori said, wiping his brow with a trembling hand. Dori squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

“We are not out of the woods yet,” Thorin said. “The Master could still landlock us.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Nori said, digging through his pockets. “I’ll have that landlock backfired before you could say ishkabibble.”

“Get it done,” Thorin ordered before hurrying through the doorway after his nephews. The whining of the engine filled the small cargo bay and the ship began to move backward from its port.

“We’re off!” Bofur’s voice carried up from the engine room. Bilbo couldn’t help himself. He just had to say it.

“On an adventure!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's blow this sugar stand and see what goes down!


	46. Yearners and Yielders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I was really unproductive today. I've decided Bilbo meeting Smaug would make a great holiday special, so I am leaving to write that tomorrow. For now I will take some sleeping medicine and dream the night away.

**Yearners and Yielders**

A great weight seemed to lift off Bard’s shoulders when the light above the door flashed red. The ship had departed. He sighed in relief a moment before Legolas raced past him. Then his eyes fell on the guards heading for him and the weight landed once more. Spinning on his heel, he raced in the opposite direction down the catwalk.

“Get back here!” the guards shouted after him.

“We’re onto you, Bard!”

“You can’t escape from us this time!”

The crowds parted for Bard as he raced through. A quick turn into a hallway and down a spoke led him into the marketplace. The stalls were bustling with activity from both vendors and sellers. Bard easily launched himself over a fish seller before continuing on his way. The vendor shouted after him, his voice raising when the guards crashed through. Bard fled the marketplace through another hallway and shoved his way into the stairwell entrance. Men and women alike shouted curses after him, children laughing when they saw the strange man running.

Bard slid to a stop at the top of the stairs. They were too crowded for him to make it through without getting caught quickly. He had half a mind to turn in another direction when the shout came.

“Now we’ve got you!”

Making up his mind, Bard grabbed the railing and launched himself over. Screams filled the stairwell as he dropped past, plunging down the open air of the stairwell. He landed hard on the floor. His knees whined with the impact but he shook his head. He could worry about the pain later.

“You can’t run forever, Bard!” a guard shouted. Bard spared a glance up to see the guards shoving their down the stairs.

“Never caught me before,” Bard said softly to himself. He knew the rules. The guards had no power in his quarters without a search warrant. Even then, a search warrant was both hard to come by and would bring nothing up. It was a safe zone. The only problem was getting to his quarters before the guards caught him.

The gathered crowds moved out of his way when Bard raced out of the stairwell. Some called after him, asking where he was going, while others just shook their heads in disbelief. Even as a child Bard had always been running around the Station.

The second level of the Station was devoted entirely to the aquarius farms. Each intersection had been filled from edge to edge with growing crops while the fish swam in pools below. Rafts were shoved through the crops for harvest and fishing using long poles and baskets. Bard leapt onto a nearby raft, apologizing to the harvester, before hopping into another. Several of the harvesters stopped what they were doing to level out their rafts for him. Neither wanted to fall into the stinking pools to swim with the fishes. The harvesters found it easier just to help Bard on his way than to argue. The guards, though, found it difficult to maneuver when they were not quite as level-footed. Several fell into the pools, spitting up water.

Once he had reached the other end of the pool, Bard leapt from the raft onto solid ground. He spun around and gave a low bow to the rafters. The workers waved him on, several wolf-whistling at his skill. Spinning on his heel, he raced off once more. His feet carried him through the halls, down two sets of abandoned stairwells – one crumbling with each step he took – and down several halls on the lower levels. The door to his quarters had just barely come into sight when something caught his foot. It sent him sprawling forward in a graceless heap.

“Nice try, Bard,” a snide voice said. Rolling over with a groan, Bard looked up to see Alfrid, the Master’s right hand man towering over him. “But you’re not getting away that easily. We saw what you had in your quarters.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bard said. He made to sit up but Alfrid planted a boot on his chest, pushing him back down.

“Dwarves, Bard,” Alfrid said with a nod and a grin of his yellow teeth. “What were Dwarves doing in your quarters?”

“There are no Dwarves on this Station,” Bard said through gritted teeth. Alfrid’s smile vanished in a snap and the weasel of a man stepped back. Bard took the chance to stand, brushing his coat off. “Now may I go?”

“I don’t think so,” Alfrid said. “The Master wants to see you.” Hands landed on Bard’s shoulder, catching him by surprise. Another set grabbed his upper arms, holding him where he was. “You see, the Master has decided you’ve been causing a bit too much trouble with your . . . vigilante attitude. We’ve decided a bit of time on an outpost will help you.” Bard wrenched against the hands but they held him fast.

“I have children,” he said. “Children who depend on me.” Alfird grinned at that, clearly enjoying Bard’s discomfort.

“Oh don’t worry, they’ll be taken care of. I’ve heard the children’s homes on the third level are excellent.” Bard roared at the words, lunging forward. The hands jerked him. Something connected hard with his head. Black spots flooded his vision as he collapsed to the floor. “Take him to the first level,” Alfrid’s voice said, fading away into the black. “The Master will want to see him.”

O.o.O

For the first time in five years Thorin took control of the ship. He gripped the steering controls in a strong grip, the familiar sensation of flying returning to him. It was as though he had never left them. Fili and Kili stood directly behind him, Fili gripping the headrest of his seat in nervous hands. Both pilots could navigate their way between the suns of the Blue Mountains blind. Erebor was a completely different story. Having never been near their home planet, neither of them knew a safe route between the Crown of Durin. And that, Thorin could say proudly, was where he came in handy.

“Steady,” Fili muttered under his breath, his grip tightening. The leather groaned under his hands. Kili sucked in a noisy breath between his teeth. Thorin ignored both of them in favor of keeping his eyes trained on the fourth and fifth suns.

Though the Crown of Durin moved at a slow pace, the gravitational fields were detrimental. They could suck a ship into their flaming mass with one wrong twitch of the wrists. Thankfully Thorin had spent his childhood flying in and out of the suns with his brother and sister. Thorin blinked in surprise. He hadn’t thought about Frerin for a long time not since Gandalf had last compared Bilbo to his younger brother. Thorin had almost felt insulted at the time.

The ship dipped down below the two suns. Thorin kept one eye on the radar to his left and his other on the suns’ fiery ropes. Every so slowly they inched forward. The minutes seemed to turn to hours as Thorin watched the suns drift over them. Kili turned on the spot to keep his eyes on the burning stars. Eventually they faded away behind the ship. Thorin fell back into his seat, heaving a relieved breath. Fili whistled low.

“Never thought I’d get that close to a sun again,” the senior pilot said hoarsely. Kili chuckled nervously, taking a step back. A great howl left his lips when a hatch opened beneath him and he fell through. Thorin twisted in his seat immediately, his eyes falling on the hidden stairwell.

“I’m okay!” Kili called up. “Just a couple of steps. Nothing broke.”

“You and steps,” Fili chuckled. “I’m starting to think you do that on purpose.” Kili squawked at that, his voice carrying up through the hatch. Thorin laughed low to himself and stood from the pilot’s chair. Fili took the vacant seat, still laughing, and grabbed the controls.

“It should be a straight on flight from here,” Thorin told his nephew. He edged his way around the hatch. Down below he could see Bofur bending over his younger nephew. The two were laughing at something. “Let me know when we reach Erebor’s atmosphere.”

“Will do,” Fili said, waving blindly.

Leaving one nephew to fly and one nephew to recover a fall, Thorin made his way back through the doorway. The ship Bard’s friend loaned them was a two-story design with most of the lower level taken up by the engine. The upper levels contained no more than the cockpit, eating area, bathroom, and cargo bay. Both the eating area and bathroom were tiny rooms, more of closets. The ship was either made for only one person or not long trips. Good thing they wouldn’t be on it for long.

Dwalin looked up from his continued training of Bilbo. He straightened up at the sight of Thorin smiling.

“Good news?” the taller Dwarf asked. Balin looked over from his conversation with Oin and Dori, his curiosity piqued.

“My friends,” Thorin said, stopping where he stood and spreading his arms wide. The rest of the crew stood from their seats. “We have passed through Durin’s Crown. Soon we will be within the halls of Erebor.” A great cheer arose among the crew. Balin wiped a stray tear away while Dwalin clapped Bilbo on the back. The poor Hobbit was sent careening forward into Nori who seized him up and began a jaunty polka. Bilbo could hardly keep up with the laughing and quick steps of the Dwarf. Thorin couldn’t stop his own laughter from joining the rest of his crew’s. This was truly a time to celebrate.

O.o.O

“They made it through the Crown,” Tauriel announced from her seat in the pilot chair. Legolas turned to see his friend’s eyes trained on a screen to her left. Her hands remained positioned on the controls of the ship, her fingers twitching slightly.

“How long will it take them to reach Erebor?” Legolas asked. Tauriel turned her head to look at him, a questioning look in her eyes. “They have until the end of the day to find the doorway,” he explained quickly. “This is their last chance.”

“They should reach the planet in a matter of a few hours,” Tauriel said, turning back to the screens.

Striding up to stand beside the chair, Legolas looked out the windshield. Before them loomed the Seven Jewels of Durin’s Crown. He had seen the suns from afar ever since he’d been born. His first true vision of the suns were terrifying. They could devour anything in their path they wished. Why the Dwarves made their capital here or a Dragon chose to pillage this planet was beyond him. It just screamed death.

“Another message from your father,” Tauriel said. Legolas stiffened under his friend’s gaze. “Shall I send it through?”

“Do not bother,” Legolas said. “Nothing my father says can change my decision.” Tauriel flicked a finger and a screen to her right flickered red. Legolas’ eyes flicked to it before he turned his attention back to the sky outside. “Did you happen to read it?”

“Aye.”

“What did my father say?”

“He has declared us both traitors for aiding the Dwarves. The Government is preparing to head for Erebor to apprehend Thorin Oakenshield and his crew.” Legolas sucked in a breath. Tauriel twisted to look at him. “Still want to go through with this?”

“My father and I have never seen eye to eye before,” Legolas told his friend. “This is not the first time I have spoken against him.”

“It is the first time you have done anything about it,” Tauriel pointed out. Legolas smiled to her.

“There was an innocent person’s life in danger this time. Besides, you would have gone through with your plans whether I had helped you or not.”

“And where would I be without you?”

“Arrested . . . again.”

“I am offended!”

“That does not change the fact it is true.”

“I will remain offended until you apologize.”

“That is fine by me. You will just need to remain offended for many centuries.” Tauriel stuck her tongue out at Legolas who just chuckled. “It would be best to follow Thorin into Erebor. Nowhere else is safe for us right now.” The former captain turned back to face forward. Focusing on the controls, she urged it toward the Crown.

O.o.O

Bard grunted as he hit the floor of the prison cell hard. His limbs stills spasmed with the electric shocks the guards had administered during the torture. The Master had never been a kind man, but not even Bard had suspected him of such cruelty. The darker side of the Master did nothing to change the way Bard looked at him. He was still a fat pig sitting happily atop his mound of gold while the other below worked just to feed their families.

“Nighty night,” Alfrid said from behind the closing door. “Hope you like rats.” Bard glared over his shoulder at the man. He didn’t know who he hated more: the Master of Alfrid. Both were greedy beasts but only was a true weasel in his own right.

The door slammed shut on screeching hinges, the sound aggravating Bard’s already pounding head, and he was left in the dark. A silence fell in the room but for dripping water. The plop of droplets echoed off the steel walls. It filled Bard’s mind, driving him mad. He rolled over and ran a hand down his face, trying to calm down. The guards had taken his jacket and shirt for the torture, leaving him in nothing but his pants and boots. The cold steel beneath him bit at his skin. He shivered slightly. His words several days before rang in his head.

_“The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,_

_The King beneath the Mountain shall come into his own,_

_And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King’s return,_

_But all shall fail in sadness and the lake shall shine and burn.”_

He’d learned the words as a child. His father had drilled it into his head every night before bed. Being a descendent of Girion meant that one day the duty of Dale might fall into his hands. Already he had begun teaching the words to Bain and Sigrid. Tilda was far too young to care at the moment. He wanted his youngest daughter to stay innocent just a little bit longer.

But what would happen if the Dragon was still awake? Would the Dwarves wake him up? Would his wrath fall upon them and then Lake-Town? Bard groaned and ran his hands down his face once more. The worries were too much for his aching brain. Already the Master had demanded enough information – none of which Bard gave him – and any more would cause him to scream. He could only hope his children were safe.

O.o.O

“Tilda!” Sigrid exclaimed when she saw her younger sister. Bain poked his head into his bedroom, his eyes widening. “You put that down right now!” Sigrid hurried forward to wrench the weapon from her sister’s hands.

“But what is it?” Tilda asked curiously. Sigrid tucked the weapon back onto the upper shelves, pulling spare sheets over it. “Why does Da have a black arrow in his room?”

“It’s a family heirloom,” Bain said, entering the room slowly. Sigrid sent him a warning look but he ignored it. Tilda turned her curious gaze on her older brother. “It’s the only weapon strong enough to slay a dragon.” Tilda’s eyes widened at that and she spun to look to her older sister for validation. Sigrid patted her hair comfortingly.

“It’s alright, though,” Sigrid said. “Because it’s just an heirloom, nothing more.”

“You know the prophecy,” Bain said, earning himself a glare from Sigrid.

“What prophecy?” Tilda asked. She tugged at Sigrid’s sleeve. “Tell me, please.”

“No,” Sigrid said sternly. Her glare darkened at Bain’s defiant expression. “I said no!”

_“The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,_

_The King beneath the Mountain shall come into his own,_

_The bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King’s return,_

_But all shall fail in sadness and the lake shall shine and burn.”_

“Now she’ll have nightmares for a month,” Sigrid howled, charging at her brother. Bain whooped and raced in the other direction through the quarters. Tilda laughed through it all, clapping her hands together gleefully as her siblings chased each other around. Not once did her thoughts turn to the Dwarves that had stayed with them for several days.

O.o.O

The crew watched with baited breath as Thorin approached the stone door. The trip into the atmosphere of Erebor had taken under three hours. Fili had flown them over the ruins of Dale before landing at the base of the mountain. The crew had then been forced to scale the steep stairwell that led up to the hidden doorway. All directions were give courtesy of Thorin’s map. Bilbo had been the one to find the keyhole when the Seven Jewels had risen into the sky together. Only by the light of the last Jewel did the keyhole show itself. Now they stood gathered on a cliff, watching their captain.

Thorin slid the key into the keyhole. His pressed in until it stopped, his knuckles just barely brushing the stone wall. The blood pounded in his ears. Sweat made his palms slick, causing his fingers to slip on the key. Aware of his crew watching him, Thorin twisted the key. A click sounded.

The door swung open.


	47. Valiant and Venomous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm used to doing stuff like this with our Hetalia readers and it's worked well with them. We've reached the end of the Desolation of Smaug. The next chapter begins our descent into the Battle of the Five Armies. So I've decided to do something a little special.  
> I love readers of all kinds, even the ones who don't review very often. But this time, if you review down below (It can even be a 1 - 10 1=terrible and 10 = awesome) then I will give you my email address. Shoot me a quick email and in return you will receive a sneak peek into the Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space. It's a bit of a head cannon I've been playing with, though it will one day be a true scene, and the Dwarves will be present for it, believe it or not. This email is strictly for my penname use on AO3 and Fanfic, I don't use it for anything else. And I'm not trying to be creepy or anything, honest to God . . . or Mahal . . . or whoever you want. Just . . . you get a sneak peek!

**Valiant and Venomous**

Bilbo didn’t notice anything had really happened until the hushed silence fell over the occupants of the cliff. He still had his eyes trained on the dying light of the Crown of Durin. Never before had he seen such beautiful suns. Not even Rivendell’s or Carrock’s could beat Erebor’s. They reminded him of his mother Belladonna. She always had a smile on her face, greeting him each morning with a cup of tea. Even when he refused to seek her comfort after a nightmare she still smiled at him. Maybe that was why he liked the sunshine so much. He missed her and it brought her back.

A meaningfully cleared throat caught Bilbo’s attention. Turning on the spot, he found thirteen pairs of Dwarf eyes trained on him. The crew of _The Arkenstone_ stood in a loose crowd outside an open door. Bilbo blinked for a moment. Where had the door come from? Then his eyes fell on Thorin’s empty hand. Right, the key. He’d forgot about that. Bofur offered him a lopsided grin.

“Ya ready, Bilbo?” he asked. Bilbo swallowed hard. Sneaking into a Dragon’s lair, he thought, nothing to it.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nori offered, shrugging. “None of us would blame you for backing out.” Not even Thorin looked ready to argue with that. Perhaps it was his own memories of Dragon fire or the expression Bilbo still wore from watching the Crown set.

“No,” Bilbo said with a wry smile. “I told you guys I would get your stone, so I’ll do it.”

“None of us will call you weak,” Dwalin reminded him. “No harm in turnin’ back if you get scared.” Bilbo gave him a thankful nod. “We’ll be right here waitin’ for you.” Kili and Fili both nodded eagerly, not wanting to lose their favorite Hobbit to a fiery death.

The stones crunched under Bilbo’s feet as he stepped forward. His knees shook and sweat filled his palms. The Dwarves stepped out of his way, a sea parting for the winds. The journey across the cliff seemed to last ages. Finally, Bilbo stood before Thorin, his only obstruction to his entrance through the door. The Dwarf captain had his him crossed over his chest. He looked Bilbo up and down with chilly eyes before dropping his arms and pulling him into a hug. Bilbo stiffened for a moment, unused to comforting touches, before he relaxed.

“Do not be a fool,” Thorin murmured into his ear. Bilbo felt his breath carry across the very tips of his pointy ears. It tickled. “You may turn around whenever you wish and we will leave this planet behind us.”

“I-I can do this,” Bilbo said in a weak voice. Thorin’s grip around his shoulders tightened to bone-crushing. Bilbo had a half a mind to tell him off. The words died on his lips as Thorin stepped back. The Dwarf nodded once firmly, one hand still on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“There will be jetpacks inside the door,” Thorin said. Bilbo frowned in confusion but tucked the bit of information away for future use. “They run entirely on solar energy and can store it for up to ten hours. You should be able to fly one easily enough. At the first sign of danger, I want you out of there. Do not, and I mean it, _do not put yourself in danger_.” The last words were spoken in the fierce growl of a king. Bilbo’s spin snapped straight and he saluted his friend. The Dwarf smiled and clapped him on the shoulder before stepping back. Bilbo made to enter the mountain when Balin spoke up.

“I will go with you, laddie,” the older Dwarf said. “Just to the entrance of the treasure chamber.” Bilbo turned to see Balin smiling at him sadly. He returned the smile, his heart lightening slightly. This would be easier with a friend nearby.

The rest of the crew smiled sadly and bid their farewells. Bifur firmly refused to say farewell and gave Bilbo a strong hug with a “see you later” added in for effect. He, at least, had some belief in the Hobbit. Dwalin was the last to hug Bilbo before his brother and the Hobbit entered the mountain. He gave Bilbo a secure pat down, ensuring the Hobbit had everything he needed: sword, ring, and wits.

Farewells said and wits already raw, Bilbo and Balin entered the mountain together. The immediate chamber they stepped into was rather small, no doubt due to this being a hidden door. Cobwebs hung from the corners and mice raced through the halls. Balin stopped for a moment of nostalgia just inside the door. His eyes filled with tears as he looked around.

“I remember when these halls were filled with fire,” Balin said. For a moment Bilbo thought he was talking of Dragon fire, and then the Dwarf continued. “Great roaring fires, ripe meat off the bone . . . Those were the good days of peace in this mountain.”

“You’ll see them again,” Bilbo assured his friend, clapping Balin on the shoulder. Balin gave him a watery smile then waved him on. They continued through the hall, Bilbo tripping occasionally on fallen rocks. Balin’s excellent vision in the dark saved him from breaking his face open. Eventually the hall dipped down into a staircase. Bilbo hesitated for a moment before Balin pressed him gently.

“This the right way,” the Dwarf said, urging Bilbo down onto the first step. “We should be at the treasure hall in a matter of moments.”

“What about the jetpacks?” Bilbo asked. Balin frowned in confusion. “Thorin said they’d be right inside the door.” The Dwarf exhaled hard through his nose.

“I’m afraid that was not the door Thorin was talking about,” Balin said slowly, planting his hands on his hips. “He meant the treasury door.” Bilbo snorted and turned to continue down the stairs. Balin followed him and they traveled in silence for several minutes. Bilbo’s stomach twisted into tighter knots with every step he took. He had no idea if the Dragon was still alive or if he would even survive this ordeal. At the foot of the last set of stairs, Balin placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Bilbo,” the Dwarf said. Bilbo turned to find Balin wearing a sorry expression. “None of us would think you weak.”

“No, I’m going to do this,” Bilbo said firmly. He turned to face his friend entirely. “I’ve made my promise and a Baggins always keeps his promise.” The sorry expression brightened slightly and Balin chuckled. “What?” Bilbo demanded. The chuckles grew into hushed laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“You will never stop amazing me, Bilbo Baggins,” Balin said through his laughter. “You and the courage of Hobbits. If we had an army of Hobbits behind us then I think Smaug wouldn’t stand a chance.” Bilbo gave the laughing Dwarf a wry smile before turning to the treasury room. “Bilbo.” He turned back. Balin had stopped laughing, a serious expression on his face. “Find the Arkenstone. That’s the only thing we came here for. It will be a large, white jewel.”

“A large, white jewel,” Bilbo repeated. Balin nodded once. “That’s not very descriptive. Can’t you tell me more?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” was all Balin said. Bilbo thought him finished for a moment then the Dwarf added, “And if there does happen to be a Dragon down there . . .”

“Yes?”

“Try not to wake it up. You’ll regret it.” Bilbo squeaked in the back of his throat. They stood like that for several long seconds just staring at each other. And then Balin did something no other Dwarf had done to Bilbo before. He stepped up to stand directly before Bilbo, planted his hands on the Hobbit’s shoulders, and tapped their foreheads together. It was a gentle head-butt, but it didn’t matter. Bilbo knew what it mean. It meant _hello_ and _goodbye_ and _it’s great to see you_ , but most of all it meant _brother_ , _I wish you well_. Hobbits spoke through hidden tones in their voices. Dwarves spoke through outright gestures. Both held underlying meanings and both held just as much to Bilbo as the other.

Balin drew back from the head-butt and offered Bilbo a small smile. Bilbo gave him a single nod, a small head-butt of his own, and then turned. The sound of Balin hurrying back up the steps didn’t escape his ears. Taking a steadying breath, Bilbo stepped forward and into the treasury room.

Thorin had lied. This wasn’t a room, it was a cavern. And that was putting it lightly. The walls extended beyond sights, disappearing from Bilbo’s eyeline. Innumerable pillars rose high into the air to support the arching ceiling. A complex pattern of catwalks and stairs had been carved from stone. They crisscrossed each other through the cavern along the edges. Several met on landings and continued on their way. A few led to doorways while others seemed to have one led to somewhere important. Those stairwells ended abruptly, the stone shattered by something akin to a Dragon tail.

And then there was the gold. The sheer amount of it stopped Bilbo in his tracks. It rose and fell in pile upon pile of glimmering metal. Steps had been buried beneath it. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds . . . they littered the gold like tiny flowers in a meadow of wheat. The gold itself emanated a strange light. It was almost like the light of the Crown yet different. There was no warm feeling to it. This was a cold feeling. It made Bilbo shudder. Something about this gold felt wrong, sick even.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Bilbo looked around himself. There, lined along the walls, were several small backpacks. They had once been silver. The metal had long since tarnished, leaving a black case behind. They resembled a beetle in both the rounded shape and the seam that ran down the center of it. Bilbo grabbed the first jetpack from the rack and slipped his arms through the straps. The moment he clipped the buckle to form an _X_ across his chest, the straps shifted. They tightened themselves until the backpack sat snug against his back. Blue bars lit up along the straps and the jetpack hummed quietly to life. The vibrations trembled against Bilbo’s spine. He stood still for a moment just to grow accustomed to the strange sensation.

Bilbo didn’t bother to use the jetpack quite yet. He didn’t know how much juice was in the machine. Instead he slipped the ring on his finger and crept down the staircase. His feet moved nearly soundlessly on the stones and eventually the coins of gold. Piles shifted quietly with his movements. Several times he meant down when he spotted a flash of white. Most of the time he tossed them aside, the findings being either a pearl or a small white jewel. Surely a small triangular shaped jewel couldn’t be the Arkenstone.

The search lasted for what felt like hours. Bilbo’s nerves frayed with every passing minute. He checked and double-checked his surroundings. He had no idea just how large the cavern was. Smaug could be hiding anywhere. Several times Bilbo wanted to turn back, to return to the Dwarves empty-handed. They wouldn’t blame him. Even they had said it themselves. They’d forgive him and move on. But his stubborn Baggins pride kept him going, not to mention the Took curiosity. Part of Bilbo actually wanted to see the great Fire Drake. Like Dwarves, he’d only heard of them from books. Perhaps if he saw one from afar he’d be happy. It would have to be leagues and leagues away, though.

It happened when Bilbo picked up a goblet. It was done out sheer curiosity. He only wanted to investigate the beautiful emeralds on the cup. They reminded him a bit of home and Bagend. The gold shifted as he lifted the goblet from its place. He lifted his head at the sound of shifting coins, his eyes widening. Two things happened at once. One, a great, white jewel rolled quite literally into Bilbo’s open – surely the Arkenstone, he thought – and second, the gold drifted away to reveal a great Dragon eye. Bilbo froze in his position. The red eyelid remained closed for the time being, the great Dragon obviously asleep.

Bilbo chose to make a hasty retreat. He had the Arkenstone in hand, he could now safely return to the Dwarves. Stuffing the jewel down the front of his shirt, Bilbo lifted one foot. Or he tried to. It remained trapped where the gold had sunk it down. The coins acted like quicksand around his ankles. Bilbo tugged fruitlessly, trying in vain to free himself so he could flee.

A great rumbling sound filled the cavern. It reverberated off the walls and filled Bilbo’s ears. The Hobbit froze where he stood. The sound came again. Slowly, ever so slowly, the gold began to shift in great piles. The scarlet head of the beast rose into the air. Bilbo whimpered in the back of his throat. He plunged one hand into his pocket, vanishing in an instant. He watched as the Smaug lifted his head high into the air. His neck followed next then his body and then his wings. He was a great leathery lizard with bat-like wings. His tail lashed back and forth dangerously, freeing itself from his hoard of gold. The Dragon’s eyes skimmed back and forth over the gold. They stopped momentarily on Bilbo and for a moment he feared Smaug had seen him. The eyes continued and Smaug lifted his head, sniffing the air. And then h did something that nearly gave Bilbo a heart attack. He _spoke_. No one had bothered to tell him about that bit.

“Strange,” the Dragon said in a chillingly haunting voice. “For a thief to hide when he’s searching for treasure.” Bilbo’s heart sank. He should have known Smaug would smell him. The Dragon sniffed again then began moving forward slowly. His head swayed back and forth like a snake’s. “Come out, little thief. Come out where I can see you.” The gold around Bilbo’s ankles shifted and he found himself freed. As quickly as he could he tumbled backward over the gold. Smaug’s head snapped toward him. A beam of gold seemed to shine from the Dragon’s eye. “I know you’re here, thief. I can smell you in the air. I hear your breath. You can’t hide from me.” The Dragon shifted closer and closer as Bilbo continued to move farther away. His hand drifted back toward the bottom of the jetpack. His fingers danced along a button, perhaps to get it running. He really should have figured out how to use this thing before facing Smaug.

“How cute of you to hide in the shadows,” Smaug continued, his eyes roving over the gold. Bilbo ducked behind a pillar. “I can still smell you, though. I recognize it. There’s Dwarf on you and Man and Elf but there’s something else. I can’t quite trace it.” Bilbo froze in his place behind the pillar. Smaug’s head wound round to hover over him. “It brings back old memories of a small race. They were friendly, I believe, unafraid by us Dragons. They harnessed our fire power to travel throughout the System. Hairy Foots, I believe they were called.”

“Harfoots,” Bilbo said before he could stop himself. Smaug’s head snapped around to face him. Unwillingly, and almost unaware of what he was doing, Bilbo pulled the ring off his finger. Smaug seemed to smile, his eyes trailing over Bilbo. “They were, um, called Harfoots.”

“The Harfoots, yes now I remember,” Smaug said. He drew closer to Bilbo and sniffed. The Hobbit quivered under the hot breath. It stank of rotten meat and stale air. “Such a sweet race. Tell me, did they ever survive?”

“They, um, almost died off,” Bilbo said. Smaug growled low in the back of his throat. “I, in fact, have a bit of Harfoot blood in me. That and Fallohide . . . and I think Stoor too. It all got a bit mixed up.”

“Never heard of a Fallohide before,” Smaug said, his voice growing deeper. Bilbo swallowed hard. He kept his eyes trained on every movement the Dragon made. “No matter. It’s all the same to me when you die. Tell me, thief, why are you traveling with Dwarves.”

“Dwarves?” Bilbo repeated, trying to feign innocence. Suddenly Smaug was in his face, the Dragon’s eye an inch from his own face.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Harfoot,” Smaug warned. “I know the stench of Dwarf. You’ve been traveling with them for the past few months. Their reek lingers on your skin and clothes.”

“I don’t smell!” Bilbo said before he could stop himself. Smaug growled and he sank back against the pillar. “Sorry.”

“Who are you?” Smaug asked curiously. “If you are what you say you are – Harfoot, Stoor, or Fallohide, then who are you and where are you from?”

“I come from under the hill,” Bilbo whimpered out.

“Underhill,” Smaug repeated, a note of curiosity in his voice. Bilbo nodded quickly.

“But I’ve traveled through space where there are no hills,” the Hobbit said. “I am Riddle-Maker, He Who Walks Unseen, a Child of the Stars . . . Barrel-Rider.”

“Barrels,” Smaug said. The jump in his voice caused Bilbo to leap into the air in surprise. The Dragon reared back. “I know the stench you wear! It’s that filthy Oakenshield! He sent you in here to steal from me.”

“You’re wrong,” Bilbo said quickly, wondering how this had down spiraled so quickly. Only moments ago he’d had the Arkenstone and victory in his hands. “I didn’t come here with Thorin Oakenshield. I came to see if you were really as magnificent as the stories said you were.”

“If you didn’t travel with him then how do you know his name?” Bilbo groaned at his own stupidity. “Did you know he was sending you to your doom? Even if you made it out of here alive you will still have to face him. The gold-sickness will take and him and where will you be left? Alone and abandoned on the edge of a cliff.

“No,” Bilbo said. “You’re wrong.” Smaug snorted at that.

“Oh really, _Barrel-Rider_. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lake-Town those miserable Men, trade Barrels with the Elves. I’ve watched them do it for over a century. They helped you with this, didn’t they?”

“No! No, they had no part in this.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you?” Smaug hissed. He lowered his head to glare at Bilbo. “Never lie to a live Dragon. It never ends well. I will kill those miserable fisherman, burn their Station from the sky. And you will stay here and watch. Oakenshield will come and find you and you will watch as he descends into madness. And then, when I am done with Lake-Town, I will come and burn you next, if only to see Oakenshield crack and wither away.”

“No,” Bilbo squeaked out, his voice lost. He watched in horror as Smaug spread his leathery wings. The great Fire Drake took off from the piles of gold. “No, stop, please!”

“Nothing can stop me, Child of the Stars,” Smaug roared through the caverns. “For I am fire and I am death!” The last thing Bilbo saw was the very tip of Smaug’s tail flying toward his head along with a tongue of flame. The fire he dodged easily enough with only his heels turning a bit crispy but the tail he did not. It struck him hard in the back of the head. The pain lanced through his skull and black dots swam over his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, remember review=special preview of an up and coming story. It's a scene I'm really looking forward to.
> 
> And thanks so much for all your guys's support. I'm seriously not trying to suck in a bunch of reviews, it's just my gift to you guys.
> 
> Happy New Year's!


	48. Twists and Turns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I meant to write today but then I ended up playing computer games and my brain fried. :/ Oops.
> 
> My offer still stands. Review and you will receive sneak peeks into the Lord of the Rings: Into Space. So far only Cheshirekitten has taken me up on the offer. Many thanks to her for that. :) I actually plan on doing something akin to a newsletter. I'll send out rough sketches of scenes, bits of ideas I have, and stuff like that. So there's still time to get in on this!

**Twists and Turns**

The penny dropped. Quite literally, too. Agent Smith stared at Gloin in shock. In his eyes the Dwarf could see disbelief and the tiniest wish for none of this to be true. The coin the Man had been twiddling between his fingers rolled under Gloin’s chair and disappeared to the other side of the room. Neither Dwarf nor Man spoke for several long minutes. Gloin allowed the information to sink in. It was, he admitted to himself, a bit much for a single person to take in. He himself wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t lived it.

“He’s an experiment?” Agent Smith asked quietly. Gloin raised an eyebrow, amazed that this was what the Man had taken from his part of the story, but nodded once. Agent Smith blinked once, twice, and then ran a hand down his face. “According to the constitution set up by the first council of the Government of the Free Peoples, experimentation on another race is both unethical and completely illegal.”

“And yet it’s happening on your doorstep,” Gloin said. He tugged slightly at his handcuffs, wondering for a moment if he could escape from it. “Bilbo’s been through electroshock treatment, sleep deprivation, hours of loud music . . . Your Government tortured him to learn his limits. Why do you think all those other Hobbits killed themselves? They were surrounded by enemies.”

“What proof do you even have of this?” Agent Smith asked in a hoarse voice, lowering his hand to look at Gloin.

“We have plenty,” Gloin said. Thinking for a moment, he chose a few examples he’d experienced himself. “Dori’s the expert on Hobbits. He told us Hobbits seek comfort in their parents when they have nightmares. Even when they leave their tweens they’ll still go to their parents in the middle of the night. Of course, once they marry then they use their spouse instead. It’s not considered unusual in the Shire System.”

“Where is this going?” Agent Smith asked tiredly.

“It’s going to Bilbo,” Gloin snapped. The Agent’s eyes narrowed at him. “Bilbo never looked to us for comfort when he had nightmares. He always tried to solve the problems himself. Gandalf told us he even did this with his parents. Those experiments drove him mad. He didn’t trust anyone with his own fears.”

“I see,” Agent Smith said. His eyes turned to the table where he traced symbols against the steel surface. “Any other examples?”

“He’s childish,” Gloin said, ticking off a finger. “He tends to go through periods where he won’t talk to anyone. Sometimes he’s not lucid when sounds frighten him. He won’t go near anything that resembles a surgical area, and that includes the medical bay. Do you need any others, or are you finally convinced?”

“No, I-I think I’m good,” Agent Smith said in a soft voice. He rose from his seat, gathering up the folders that had scattered on the table. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Gloin.”

“It was my pleasure,” Gloin said with a wicked smile. The Man hurried from the room, obviously wanting to leave as soon as possible. Once he was gone, Gloin relaxed. It pained him to remember what had happened to their little friend. He was slightly happy Balin would be the one telling the tale of the Battle of the Five Armies. That hadn’t been Thorin’s proudest moment and it was the time when Bilbo had sunk the lowest.

O.o.O

It came around midnight. They had just passed out of the Gondor System and into the Khazad system. The pain struck like lightning at the base of Fili’s spine. It seared its way through the neurons of his nerves. It leapt from one axon to the next, reaching his brain in seconds. Fili’s brain screamed in agony at the electrical shocks. Diamonds of light shattered in his vision. His limbs jittered in the pain. Fili’s mouth fell open in a silent wail of pain. Faintly he heard _Goshawk_ giving a warbling scream. The ship continued the sound all throughout his seizure, as though trying to reach through to him.

Fili crashed forward onto the bench as the pain continued to roar through his body. There was no stop for breath or relief from the agony under his skin. He didn’t know where it come from. He didn’t know how it happened. He just wanted to it to stop. Reaching blindly through the pain, Fili’s fingers closed around the horizontal joysticks of the ship. Something cool wrapped around his wrist. It reminded him of his mother’s cold hands whenever he’d fallen ill with the flu. She’d soothe his pain away with ice packs. Pressure increased against Fili’s spine until he found himself pinned against the bench. His wrists, he vaguely found, had been handcuffed to the joysticks. He couldn’t help but feel thankful toward _Goshawk_ for the preparation. Who knew what could happen in the next few hours.

The pain continued for what felt like days. It crashed over him waves, never stopping once. During a moment of lucidity Fili started to wonder if it was the work of the Government. His thought was lost when a particular painful seizure coursed through him. Eventually it grew too much for him to handle. The diamonds faded into black spots and he collapsed into blissful serenity.

O.o.O

“Captain Jones, sir,” a voice shouted down the hall. The captain of the _G.F.P Palantir_ paused in midstep. He turned on his heel to see a technican hurrying down the hall toward him. The captain had the generosity to wait for the shorter Man to catch up with him before he continued walking down the hall.

“What is it, Kirkland?” Captain Jones asked. The red haired technican licked his lips nervously before passing a tablet to his superior. The captain accepted the piece of technology quietly, examining the screen. “What am I seeing here, corporal?” he demanded. The screen shone blue with more than thirty dots. The numbers continued to grow slowly as they approached the Shire System.”

“Ships, sir,” Corporal Kirkland said. “Initially there were only thirteen.”

“How many are there now?” the captain asked, not missing a single step as they rounded a corner. An engineer dressed in blue coveralls stepped aside to let them pass. Neither looked twice at the pointed ears or slender frame.

“Forty, maybe fifty,” the corporal said. “And that’s not the worst of it.”

“What is?” Captain Jones demanded. He stopped to face his inferior. “What’s got you so worried, corporal?” Corporal Kirkland just shook his head, his eyes wide. “What is it, boy? Answer me! That’s a direct order.” The corporal’s answer was to grab his captain’s elbow and lead him onto an observation deck. Captain Jones gaped at the sight before him.

The _U’zugh Khazad_ had once been the top fleet in the universe. Their strategic tactics combined with brute forced and not lost them a battle yet. The Battle-Stations themselves had been decommissioned after the siege of Smaug. They were lost, but not the pilots. Nearly two centuries later and they still knew battle patterns and flight controls by heart. It was as though they had never lost their grip on the controls. The Battle of the Five Armies had won back more than just Erebor. The Dwarves had their fleet of Battle-Stations back.

The Battle-Stations were built as the Dwarves designed any of their ships: purpose. The bulkiness of the Stations was something to be feared. It was a common saying among all flight captains: _the bulkier the ships, the more dangerous they fly._ That was the motto of the Khazad pilots. These Battle-Stations in particular were nearly five stories tall. Most likely three of these stories held smaller battle ships. The Stations began wide on the upper take-off decks and narrowed down the closer they got to the engines. A massive turbine on each corner kept the Battle-Stations aloft both in and out of atmosphere. Cannons had been mounted along the sides of each Station. These weren’t ships made for travel. They were made for war.

Captain Jones swallowed hard. His mouth had gone suddenly dry.

“Have they attacked?” he managed to croak.

“Not yet,” Corporal Kirkland said, shaking his head. “They started to arrive late yesterday evening. More and more keep coming. There’s more.”

“More?” Captain Jones seethed. He rounded on his corporal, his face taking a dangerous red color. “How can there possibly be more? We’ve got a troop of Dwarves on our doorstep and not enough fire power to handle it.”

“The Elves,” Corporal Kirkland squeaked out. The squeak came once more when his captain slapped the tablet into his chest. He caught the technology just in time before it could shatter to the floor.

“What about the Elves?”

“They’ve joined forces. Or, at least, some of them have.”

Captain Jones whirled back to look out the observation deck. Sure enough, there he saw them. The arrowhead-shaped ships zipped in and out between the _U’zugh Khazad_. Occasionally one would land on a Battle-Station. It would remain there for several seconds before leaving. More often than not the _Starlight_ was accompanied by several _Battle Rams_. These trademark battle-ships of the Dwarves were shaped like twenty-first century water skis with duel engines. They made a terrific grating sound when running, a sound that tended to send enemies fleeing.

One particular _Battle Ram_ flew out of the safety range of the _U’zugh Khazad_. The name emblazoned across the helm had been written in both Khuzdul and Westron. It read _War Hog_. Captain Jones would have laughed if he hadn’t been dripping with sweat. The _War Hog_ made a beeline for his own ship. Three _Starlights_ accompanied it. The mounted weapons on their helms stated they were from the Woodland Realm. Neither Galadriel nor Elrond ever armed their weapons like this.

“They’re hailing us,” Corporal Kirkland said, pressing the earpiece in ear. He listened for a moment before turning to his captain. “They want to talk to you.”

“Stream it to this room,” Captain Jones ordered in a croak. The corporal hastened to obey. The captain took the moment of solitude to straighten his tie and smooth his hair down. He knew what was coming next. The threats.

A holographic screen opened before the window of the observation deck. Captain Jones sucked in a breath at the Dwarf on the other end. He was a muscular Dwarf with the tradition stocky build. His red hair had been shaped into Mohawk. Dain, son of Nain, of the Iron Hills grinned at Captain Jones.

“Good mornin’,” the steward of Erebor said. “It’s lovely ta see you.”

“What is this about, Lord Dain?” Captain Jones asked in an even voice. Corporal Kirkland had stepped him trembling.

“I have a wee proposition for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“If you wouldn’t mind just handin’ over the Barrow Downs,” Dain requested kindly enough. Captain Jones blinked in surprise. What could the Dwarf possibly want with the Barrow Downs?

“You want the Barrow Downs?” the Man repeated dumbly.

“For a start,” Dain said, smiling cheerfully. “Buckland would do nicely too. So would the Farthings and Hobbiton.”

“You’re requesting the entire Shire System,” Captain Jones said in disbelief.

“Aye, I am.”

“You have no right to make that kind of demand,” the captain said hotly, jabbing a finger at the screen. “These are protected lands of the Halflings.”

“You’re doin’ a terrible job of protectin’ them,” Dain said. His humor was lost for a hungry look in his eyes. “I could do better with my teeth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Corporal Kirkland tugged at his captain’s sleeve. Captain Jones wrenched his arm free, ignoring the warning. “Is that a threat?”

“You bet it is,” Dain snarled. “If the lot of you don’t sod off now you’ll regret it. I’m takin’ the Shire System. And if I have ta go through your miserable fleet then so be it.”

“You won’t get within a hundred miles of this System,” Captain Jones warned. “So back off now.”

“Tell you what,” Dain said, sitting back. “I’ll give you three days.”

“Three days for what?”

“Assemble your troops. Make your calls. Say your farewells. Then the Battle for the Barrow Downs begins.”

O.o.O

_T: F, K, & O found. Removed trackers. Resting now. D prepared 4 attack._

Nori scanned the message before deleting it from the gadget. His suspicions had been correct. The Government had injected them each with trackers. He could only guess the trackers caused unconsciousness if they left a certain range. Tapping the gadget against his chin, Nori thought hard. If Tauriel had found Fili, Kili, and Ori then that meant she must have gotten a hold of _the Arkenstone_. There was no other ship the _Eagles_ would have flown to. The ship couldn’t be flown by one pilot, so Tauriel had to have had help. That meant Legolas was in on it . . . and probably her own crew as well. For a moment Nori started to wonder if Tauriel had made herself a network as he had.

A new message wrenched Nori from his thoughts. He glanced down at the green screen quickly.

_T: Begin._

A Cheshire grin spread across Nori’s face. He deleted the message, shoved the gadget down his shirt, and began to crawl through the air vent system. He would need to spend the day disabling certain systems from outside the technology room. First the trackers, then the locks, and finally the security. Hopefully Balin could keep the Agent distracted long enough.

O.o.O

It hurt to wake up. Just cracking open his eyelids sent waves of pain through his nervous system. Groaning, Fili snapped his eyes shut and turned away from the source of the light. His entire body had the familiar sensation of training with Dwalin. He felt bruised black and blue. A gentle pain throbbed at the base of his spine. The sensation of insects crawling over his skin made him huff through his nose.

“Wake up, Dwarf,” a smooth voice said from somewhere nearby. “I have food.” Fili frowned at the ethereal voice. It sounded vaguely familiar. “Wake up now or I will eat it.”

Cracking his eyes open, Fili found himself in the most peculiar situation yet. Someone had dumped him in a hammock and draped a blanket over his frame. The hammock and twisted at one end, trapping Fili’s legs there. The Dwarf turned his eyes to peek over the edge of the cloth. An Elf stared back at him. Behind her Fili could see a few more Elves. They were in the hallway of the first level of _the Arkenstone_. Fili would have recognized it anywhere.

“Celegrûth, play nice!” someone called from down the hall. The Elf staring at Fili smiled softly and turned. She held out a tin to someone. Fili had barely a moment to wonder who it was before Tauriel stepped into his view. She offered him a warming smile.

“Tauriel,” Fili rasped out. The Elf nodded once before turning back to her kin.

“Back to the engine room, Celegrûth,” she ordered. “This is no time for slacking.” Her fellow Elf saluted her quickly then hurried back down the hall. Fili watched her go, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“How?” he began to ask, but Tauriel interrupted him with a mouthful of meat.

“Eat first,” she said, handing him the tin. “I will explain while you do.” Both sensing defeat and starving, Fili snatched the tin and began to shovel food into his mouth. “We found you on the outskirts of the Blue Mountains. Your _Eagles_ had noticed your plight and sent out a distress signal. By then Legolas and I had fetched _the Arkenstone_ from the Greenwood Space Station. I sent out a call to my crew and those loyal to me. My crew, Legolas, and I took the ship as soon as we could. Legolas and I removed the trackers from your spines then moved you up here to rest.”

“Long story short,” Fili said through a mouthful of food. Tauriel smiled and nodded. “Anything else I should know?”

“Aye,” Tauriel said. She clasped her hands behind her back. “I sent those Elves loyal to me with Dain. They are helping him with attack on the Shire System.” Fili paused, the fork an inch from his mouth. Slowly, he lowered it.

“Attack?” he repeated in a croak. “What attack?”

“Dain has summoned the . . . _U’zugh Khazad_ ,” Tauriel pronounced the words uncertainly. “He has taken them to the Shire System to fight for the Barrow Downs. The attack will not begin for three days. That should give us enough time to take the _Eagles_ and the _Bainrîn_ out to the Shire System.”

“It took us months to get out here,” Fili said. “And you’re suggesting we get to the Shire System in a few days?” Tauriel nodded surely. “How’re we going to do that? That’s impossible?”

“Our ships fly faster than any other in the Systems. Trust me when I say we can get there.” Fili sighed and laid back in his hammock. “Tonight your uncle will board with the rest of the crew and in two more days we will reach the Shire System. Dain will begin the attack. From there we need a plan.”

“You’ll have to ask Thorin about that,” Fili said. He rested the tin on his stomach, pushing food around with his fork. “He’s the one who’s always making plans.”

“I thought as much,” Tauriel said. She patted Fili comfortingly on the leg. “Rest well. Your brother and friend are safe here with you. We will wake you when your uncle comes.” Fili smiled. Tauriel disappeared from his view. Slowly he relaxed, knowing he was safe and sound for the time being.

O.o.O

Balin didn’t expect the visit from Agent Smith so early in the morning. Normally they started around ten or eleven in the morning. It wasn’t even five yet. Balin sat up on his cot, blinking blearily at the bright light in his room. A door slammed shut and the light vanished.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t sleep,” a familiar voice said. Balin scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Your trial is tomorrow and I have to know the rest. Please.” The note of desperation in the Man’s voice piqued Balin’s curiosity. Had they really reached this deep into the Man’s sense of right and wrong? “I brought you coffee.” A steaming cup of something black and sloshy was shoved into Balin’s hand. He blinked in surprise at the new sensation. Burning heat seeped into his fingers.

“Don’t you want to hear about my history first?” Balin asked curiously.

“Originally a solider in the Khazad military, you chose a path as an advisor before joining Thorin Oakenshield’s crew,” Agent Smith said, waving a hand in the dark. Listen, I don’t know how much time we have. The trial is tomorrow and Lord Dain has parked outside the Shire System. I need to know what happened after Smaug.” Balin tucked the bit of information about Dain away for later. No doubt Thorin would want to know.

“Very well, I suppose Gloin stopped right when Smaug had left?” Balin asked. In the dark he saw the Man nod eagerly. “Well, after my words with Bilbo I returned to the door. We waited for about twenty minutes, nothing happened. And then it did. The entire mountain shook. We heard a roar, saw the light through the tunnels, and feared the worst. And then Smaug burst from the front doors of the Lonely Mountain. We hardly paid attention to him as we rushed into the mountain. He had to find Bilbo to know if he was okay.”

“And was he?” Agent Smith asked. Balin gave him a grievous look.

“Hobbit feet are very tender,” he said. “They may be ticklish at times but rarely do they actually get hurt. Only Dragon fire could truly destroy a Hobbit’s soles . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Unexpected Journey: check  
> The Desolation of Smaug: check  
> The Battle of the Five Armies: . . . let's blow this sugar stand!


	49. Deeds and Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breath for the Battle of the Five Armies! I'm going to update as much as I can today!

**Deeds and Doubts**

It took longer for Tauriel to navigate the Crown of Durin. She had never been this far beyond Lake-Town before. Normally she just stopped by the colony and stayed there for a few days or weeks. Never had she thought she would be drawing this close to the Crown. The two Elves almost died several times. Not knowing much about the Crown of Durin, Tauriel flew too close to the suns. Several times they were almost drawn into a fiery death by the gravitational fields. By the twelfth try, Tauriel called it quits. She sat in the seat, drumming her fingers against his chin.

“Perhaps we should contact the crew,” Legolas suggested. Tauriel shot him a glare. She hated asking for help when a solution sat right in front of her nose. Legolas knew it very well, but he still felt more comfortable asking someone else for help. Particularly someone who knew how to not get them killed.

“It should not be this difficult,” Tauriel said hotly. She turned he glare to stare at the suns. “Thorin could do it easily enough. Did you see what he did?”

“I believe he flew below the Sun Belt,” Legolas said. Moving to stand behind the chair, he stared at the suns before them. They had begun to space out once more now that Durin’s Day had passed.

“Perhaps the _Bainrîn_ can trace the path,” Tauriel suggested. She settled back in the chair and rested her hands on the controls. The crystal orbs pulsed a soft blue color. Lights flickered on along the walls. A holographic screen opened directly before Tauriel. A trace of elements appeared, ducking under the Crown of Durin.

“There,” Legolas said, pointing at the screen. “Follow that path directly and you should be fine.” Tauriel nodded once. Her right hand clenched the orb. They began to move forward, following the path. Rather, they would have, had a certain sound not reached their ears.

It was not so much a sound as more of an increase in pressure. After all, sound doesn’t travel in space. Tauriel released her hold on the orbs and the ship stopped where it was. Several screens flickered on as the A.I. of the ship tried to discern the origin. Stepping forward slowly, Legolas squinted in the light of the suns. He could just barely make it out. A great, black figure appeared directly behind the suns. It grew larger and larger with every passing moment. Legolas’ heart sank. He knew what that was, though he’d only seen it in pictures.

“Move,” he croaked. “MOVE!” Tauriel jumped in her chair. Her hands flew to grasp the controls. The ship veered left just in the nick of time. The Dragon shot through the suns, his wings dripping with fiery burning star matter, right past them. He was so close Legolas could clearly see the underbelly of the beast. His eyes strayed for a second on a missing scale on the Dragon’s left breast.

“Smaug,” Tauriel whispered in horror. Her eyes turned to the mountain. “How could they have survived that?”

“Where is he going?” Legolas demanded. “Turn the ship around, now!” Tauriel obliged. Through the windshield they could clearly see the tail of Smaug.

“He can travel through space,” Tauriel said. She turned wide eyes to her friend. “How is that possible?”

“Dragons need very little oxygen to survive,” Legolas explained. His hand clenched the headrest of the chair in a tight grip. The leather moaned under it. “They have been known to travel across entire Systems without once landing.” Tauriel turned to look back out the window. Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. Legolas’ stomach twisted into knots.

Smaug wasn’t changing course. The Dragon flew in a straight line, making a beeline for a certain Station.

“Lake-Town,” Legolas whispered. “He is going to destroy Lake-Town.”

“Hold on, Legolas,” Tauriel warned, her hands flying to the controls. “I intend to stop him before he gets there.” Legolas moved his grip to the shoulders of the chair. Screens flickered red, weapons activated, and the ship shot forward faster than Legolas had ever seen another move. They reached the tail of Smaug in minutes. It lashed back and forth, acting as a rudder in the Dragon’s flight.

“Prepare to fire,” Legolas ordered. The guns on the outer, curved wings of the ship glowed orange in preparation. He didn’t know what kind of weapons his father had installed on the ship. They were about to find out.

O.o.O

“What do ya think happened?”

“The poor, poor thing.”

“Will he be alright?”

“ _How dare that beast do this to him!_ ”

Bilbo frowned at the words shouted over him. At least, he thought they were shouted. The speakers were being rather loud. The words continued to bounce over him as he regained consciousness. Vaguely he was aware of hands shifting him around on the floor. Someone had removed the jetpack from his back. A bundled up jacket had been shoved under his head.

“Hold him still.” That had to be Oin. No one else spoke that loudly. Why couldn’t Bofur fix his hearing aid? “I need to check his feet.”

Something pinched at Bilbo’s heel. Eyes flying open, he keened in pain. The soles and heels of feet felt tender to the touch. The rough Dwarf fingers prodding them sent jolts of pain through his spine. Bilbo writhed on the floor, flailing about as he tried to throw the medic off.

“Hold him down!” Oin shouted. “He’ll hurt himself further!” Strong hands grabbed at Bilbo’s knees and shoulders. His knees were pressed flat against gold-strewn floor. The fingers returned to stroke up his heels.

“Stop,” Bilbo sobbed out, whimpering at the pain. “Stop, please!”

“Shh, it’ll be alright, _Pundurith_.” Cracking his eyes open once more, Bilbo saw the warrior Dwarf leaning over him. He had Bilbo’s shoulders pinned down with a hand on each one.

“Please,” Bilbo croaked. “Stop.” A hand stroked through his hair. Bofur appeared in his sight.

“It’ll be over soon,” the engineer promised him. Bilbo could see the fear on his face. Something had terrified his friend, maybe the sight of a Dragon.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Oin said from down by Bilbo’s feet. Bilbo made to look down at the medic but Nori’s nimble fingers turned him away from beside Bofur. The Dwarf murmured quiet assurances to his friend, but Bilbo ignored them. Why wouldn’t his friends let him look?

“We’ll have to wait for the medical mites to kick in,” the medic continued. “I don’t have a salve.”

“What’re you talking about?” Bilbo asked quietly. Nori turned his face once more, though this time Bilbo managed to catch the sight of Kili and Fili pinning his knees down. “What happened?” A silence fell over the Dwarves. Nori and Bofur exchanged nervous glance.

“You might as well show him, laddies,” Balin said from somewhere to the right. “He’ll see eventually.” Bilbo blinked in confusion, wondering just what had frightened his friends so much.

Bilbo’s world flew topsy turvy as Dwalin moved his grip to heave him up by the shoulders. In the sitting position, Bilbo could see Kili and Fili both had their hands positioned on his knees. Each had one of their own knees pressed down on his calf to pin the legs in place. The pilots wore identical nervous looks. Bilbo looked past the pilots. What he saw made his stomach flip. The hair atop his feet had been singed off, leaving them bare. His heels and soles were blistered from Dragon fire. Bilbo swallowed nervously. He had always been proud of the hair on his feet. It was some of the finest in the Shire System. Or, it had been. No longer now.

Bilbo did the only thing his brain could think of doing in this moment of horror. He wailed. It was a long, sharp sound akin to that of a screaming fox. In a flash hands were patting his shoulders and stroking his hair. Words were murmured in his ears, assurances the Dwarves didn’t think any less of him. Bilbo ignored them all and continued to wail helplessly.

“Move aside!” a sharp voice ordered. “You’re crowding him!” Bofur and Nori obeyed, slinking back worriedly. Dori shooed Fili, Kili, and Oin away before kneeling down beside Bilbo. He drew the wailing Hobbit into a hug. “It will be alright, Bilbo. Everything will be just fine.”

“It’s gone,” Bilbo cried, clinging to Dori. “He burned it.”

“I know,” Dori whispered. He patted Bilbo’s hair gently. “But it will grow back. Besides, you’re alive. I believe that should count more than a few missing hair.” Bilbo paused in his wailing to glare at the Dwarf. His glare received a stern look in response. “Now don’t give me that look. I know very well what this all means to you as a Hobbit. But really, look at the bright side of this.”

“And what’s that,” Bilbo said. He felt in a pouty mood at the moment, ready to ignore anything the Dwarves said.

“Smaug’s gone,” Kili said from behind him. Dori glared at the junior pilot. “Sorry.”

“Smaug,” Bilbo repeated vaguely. The last few hours’ events caught up with him. His breath caught in his chest.

“Bilbo,” Balin said, kneeling beside Dori. “What happened?”

“I-I came down here to look for the Arkenstone,” Bilbo said in a faint voice. The stone pressed against his chest but he remained quiet about it. “Smaug woke up and we talked. He knew about the Harfoot.”

“How?” Dori asked in surprise. “How could he possibly know about your kind?”

“The Harfoots lived all throughout the System,” Balin said. “They are well-known for being some of the first people to build ships. They revolutionized our space ships today. Or, at least, that’s what Gandalf told me. What happened next, laddie?”

“Smaug could smell Dwarf on me,” Bilbo said. He looked to Balin and found horror in the Dwarf’s eyes. “H-He said he was going to destroy Lake-Town and then come back and kill us. We have to help them.” Dori and Balin looked to each worriedly. Bilbo had a feeling they’d already had this conversation. He felt left out. “What? What’s wrong?”

“There will be no aid to Lake-Town from us,” Balin said softly.

“Why not?” Bilbo demanded. “Bard helped us.”

“Tell that to Thorin,” Dori said. Bilbo looked between the Dwarves, his confusion growing. Dori sighed and stood, offering a hand out to Bilbo. “He’s on the second level.” He helped Bilbo to his feet, the Hobbit wincing at the pain, then directed him up the stairs.

Balin accompanied Bilbo once more. He led the Hobbit through the winding staircases. His shoulders sagged in a sort of defeated way. It broke Bilbo’s heart to see his friend this way. The gold cast a sheen across the Dwarf’s white hair. Bilbo ignored it in favor of watching where they were going. They had just reached another staircase landing when Bilbo saw him. There, on a balcony overseeing the treasure horde, stood the Dwarf captain. Thorin stared down at the treasure with an intense. Even this far away Bilbo could tell something was wrong. He ran up the last few steps, ignoring the pain throbbing through his feet, and reached the balcony in seconds.

“Thorin,” he panted out. The Dwarf captain turned to look at him. Bilbo’s heart lurched at what he saw. Thorin’s blue eyes had darkened with a hungry look. They appraised him openly, pausing at his singed feet.

“You are awake,” Thorin said. A smile played on his lips. “It is good to see you nimble again, Master Baggins.” Master Baggins. The words echoed through Bilbo’s head. Thorin never called him that. He called him either _Hobbit_ or _Bilbo_. Never _Master Baggins_. Something wasn’t right here.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, stepping forward. Thorin watched him with a guarded look. “We have to help Lake-Town. Smaug’s going to attack.” A war of emotions flashed over Thorin’s face: anger, fear, resentment, and . . . distrust. Bilbo swallowed hard.

“What have the people of Lake-Town done for us?” Thorin demanded. Bilbo gaped at him, unsure of how to answer. “Tell me, why should we help those who have done nothing for us?”

“This isn’t about paying off debts,” Bilbo snapped. “Which, may I remind you, you have one with Bard.”

“Bard was paying off his own debt to that Elf,” Thorin snarled back. “We are exempt.”

“We aren’t exempt from anything. You still owe Bard for his help.”

“And what help was that?”

“Food, shelter, aid. He gave us a ship when we needed to escape.”

“We would have been captured by the Master.”

“Yes, if Bard hadn’t helped us. At least help Lake-Town for Bard and his children. Or did you forget about Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda?”

“Tell me, Master Baggins,” Thorin growled. Stepping forward, he towered over Bilbo who shrank back. “Why should I help those when we had none with the first attack? Dragon fire is a quick death. There will be nothing to it.” Bilbo’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Thorin turned away from him, addressing Balin. “Have you started the search for the Arkenstone?” he demanded.

“We were waiting for Bilbo to wake up,” Balin said.

“That should have only taken one Dwarf,” Thorin snapped, and Balin flinched. “Oin could have stayed by himself while the rest of you began your search. Why are you wasting my time?”

“Bilbo is our friend,” Balin tried. “He snuck into a Dragon’s den for us. It was the least we could do.” Thorin’s angry fire simmered down slightly.

“You are correct,” the captain admitted. He gave Bilbo a smile that sent a shiver down the Hobbit’s spine. “And for that I am thankful.” His sharp gaze turned back to Balin. “Tell the rest of the crew to start searching,” he ordered. “The Arkenstone is somewhere in these halls.”

Balin gave his captain a low bow before turning to leave. Bilbo hurried after him, not wanting to be near the terrifying Dwarf anymore. They walked in silence for a short while. Once they were on the lower levels, Balin paused to lean against a wall. Bilbo turned to see what had stopped his friend. He was horrified to see tears in the old Dwarf’s eyes. Balin looked to him, his eyes shining.

“Dragon sickness,” he said in a shaky breath. “I’ve seen it before.” Bilbo’s eyes flicked up to the balcony where Thorin had returned to staring at the horde. “It drove Thror mad and brought Smaug crashing down around us.”

“And now it has Thorin,” Bilbo whispered. Balin nodded, covering his eyes with a hand. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Bilbo reached out to pat his shoulder, but thought differently and drew his hand back. “Is there anything we can do?” Balin shook his head.

“The Dragon sickness will grow,” he croaked out, looking up at Bilbo with red eyes. “Thorin will search for the Arkenstone to the end of his days.”

“And if we found it?” Bilbo asked. Balin blinked once in mild confusion. “If we found the stone and gave it to him. Would that help any?”

“There’s something you need to know about that stone,” Balin said. He checked to make sure the coast was clear before dragging Bilbo into an empty room on the side. It had been a storage closet at one point but no longer. Cobwebs filled the corners and hung from the ceiling. “That stone is no mere jewel,” Balin said softly. “It hold a wealth of information.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked in confusion.

“The Arkenstone is a mini-computer,” Balin explained. “Advanced technology beyond our time. It holds battle plans, the histories of the Khazad System, blueprints for ships, and so much more. With the stone in hand Thorin can easily rule the entire System.”

“He could take over the universe,” Bilbo thought aloud. Balin nodded sadly. “Balin . . .” Bilbo looked to his friend. His right hand moved up to clutch the Arkenstone beneath his shirt. Balin’s eyes flitted down to it then back up. He grabbed Bilbo’s shoulder tightly.

“Do _not_ let Thorin see it,” he said quickly in a hushed voice. “Get that cursed thing out of here the first chance you get. There is no hope in destroying it. The shell is made of mithril. Protect that with your life, Bilbo, if you do not want to see Thorin descend further.” And with that Balin hurried from the room.

Bilbo sank to the floor of the closet. A sob hitched in his throat. His shoulders trembled with suppressed tears. How could Thorin do this to him? They’d been friends for months now. They’d been through so much together. Bilbo’s hand tightened on the Arkenstone. He could feel the gentle buzz through the cloth. Curling in on himself, he tried to ignore the thoughts rushing through his head. There was no one here to protect him. He was helpless on his own. A single moment passed during which Bilbo’s turned to escape of a different kind. It would take him from this world altogether, save him from the enemies growing around him. Bilbo banished the thought without a single consideration. It stayed there, though, growing like a festering weed.

He needed to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, last author's notes before I finish for the day!


	50. Capsized and Crosshairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously had too much fun writing this part!

**Capsized and Crosshairs**

The first tremor Bard ignored. It couldn’t have been anything more than an accident on the upper levels. One of the workers had crashed his raft again. The Master would be yelling at them for killing crops again. He’d take it from their pay and another family would go hungry. Again.

The second tremor Bard started to pay a bit more attention. Footsteps pounded down the hall past his door. Shouts echoed through the hall. They bounced off the walls. Sitting up slowly, Bard listened intently to the goings on around him. The walls shook again . . . and again . . . and again. The time between each tremor grew less and less. Bard’s eyes widened as the realization struck him. Leaping to his feet, he threw himself against the door.

“Open this door!” he roared through the steel. “Let me out! Somebody! Percy! Anybody!” The boots clomped past as did the shouts, but nobody stopped to help him. He was on his own. Bard backed away from the door and charged it. His shoulder slammed against the steel painfully. He tried it again and again. He had to get out of this prison. His children needed him.

O.o.O

Bain was in the docks on the first level when the first tremor came through. He paused, a tablet in hand. The captain beside him, he’d been handing the technology to, froze. Neither spoke as another tremor shook the entire Station. Ever so slowly, Bard turned to look out the roof windows. A great shadow headed their way.

“What is that?” the captain asked softly. Bain swallowed hard. He knew the answer. He’d seen the Dwarves. His Da had told him where they’d been heading.

The screams started seconds after Bain’s realization.

“Dragon!” one gas-man shouted. The docks erupted into chaos. Men and women screamed as many began to see the oncoming horror. Captains rushed to their ships, preparing for take-off.

“Hold the ships!” one captain roared above the chaos. “Hold the ships and load them! Take all you can!” All those present in the mass hysteria began to shove their way toward ships. Captain directed them as best as they could toward one ship at a time. They wanted to take-off as soon as they could.

Bain’s thoughts went directly to someone else, his sisters. They wouldn’t know about the Dragon. They’d still be down in their quarters. Ignoring his captain’s shout of “Get back here, boy!” he raced from the docks. The young boy sprinted through the halls, jumping out of the way of passersby. Screams echoed through the halls as word reached them.

“Dragon!”

“There’s a Dragon coming! Get to the docks!”

A group of guards accompanying the Master almost flattened Bain on their way toward the docks. Alfrid, the wretched sneak, was among them, knocking people aside. Bain jabbed his elbow into the man’s gut when the weasel passed him. Alfrid grunted but didn’t stop his running.

The trip through the levels took longer than it should have. Bain threw himself down stairs, shoved his way through crowds, and leapt across abandoned rafts in the farming area. With every level he gained the halls became more and more abandoned. People were fleeing to the docking station.

They crashed into each other on the fourth level. And quite literally. Bard and Sigrid, both running as fast as they could, collided head on. They fell to the floor in moaning heaps. Tilda scurried up behind her siblings. In her hand she gripped the black arrow.

“Sigrid,” Bain gasped out, leaping to his feet. “Tilda, there you are. We have to get to the docking station.”

“But what about Da?” Tilda asked with a quivering lip. Bain’s eyes landed on the black arrow in her small hands. “He needs this.”

“I’ll get it to Da,” Bain said firmly. He held out his hand and Tilda handed over the weapon. “You two get up to the docking station. You need to get out of here before the Dragon comes.” Stepping aside, Bain watched as Sigrid grabbed Tilda’s hand and the two fled down the hall. They rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Bain prayed they would be alright. Turing on his heel, he fled down the hall. He needed to find his father before it was too late.

O.o.O

The shots were useless. No matter how many laser bullets the guns shot, they bounced clean off the Dragon’s hide. Tauriel fired again and again and again. Each shot flew sideways once they hit the scale. Several vanished without a trace while a few flew back and struck the ship. The _Bainrîn_ absorbed each laser shot that struck it and converted it for more fuel, diverting it to the thrusters.

“Come on,” Tauriel muttered. Another shot, another miss.

“Aim for the left breast!” Legolas shouted from his place on the floor. He’d fallen sideways when Tauriel had lurched to avoid the flailing tail. “There is a loose scale there!” Tauriel obliged, firing toward the breast. A wing lowered just in time, though, and the blast was defected. Tauriel swore colorfully, earning herself a shout from Legolas.

Completely unhindered by the laser shots, Smaug reached Lake-Town. The two Elves watched in horror as he looped around the wheel-shaped Space Station. Several smaller ships ejected from the center of the Station, flying past the Dragon. Some were scorched where they flew by fire while others escaped mostly unharmed. Tauriel bit back a sob, her heart going out to the people on the ships.

And then Smaug attacked. His tail flew down, ripping a clean chunk out of the Space Station. Three or four spokes drifted off from space toward the Crown of Durin. Something flickered across each raw opening. A bubble-like substance that Tauriel recognized. The Station had been built with emergency procedures. In the even that a spoke was dislodged, a force-field would cover the opening for at least an hour. That gave the Men enough time to repair the damage. Not this time, though. There would be no engineers to repair any damage. An hour was not long enough.

“Those poor souls,” Legolas said softly.

“We need to find Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain,” Tauriel said. Reasserting her grip on the controls, she steered the ship into a veering turn.

“Where would they be?” Legolas asked. “They could be anywhere on that Station.”

“They would have been on the lower levels,” Tauriel told her friend. “We may still have time.”

O.o.O

The Station lurched violently sideways, sending Tilda and Sigrid tumbling into the wall. The older of the two dragged her sister back to her feet. Together they race down the hall toward the docking station. The entire ship shook now with every beat of the Dragon’s wings. They’d seen him with their very own eyes through the windows. He circled round and round, as though looking for a weak spot.

“Sigrid!” Tilda screamed when the Dragon’s tail flew in their direction.

“Back down the hall!” Sigrid ordered, urging her sisters back the way they’d come. “Hurry!”

They made it to the other end just in the nick of time. A great, scaly Dragon tail sliced through the Station’s hall like butter. Wires sparked, metal screamed. The spoke floated backward away from the Station. Alarms blared in the halls, red lights flashing and filling the entire area. Sigrid watched in horror as the force-field expanded over the opening.

“Sigrid,” Tilda sobbed, grabbing at her sister. “I want Da. Where’s Da.” Sigrid patted her sister on the back numbly, her eyes wide. She didn’t know what to do. The Dragon had flown past toward another spoke. There was no way Bain could get to their father now.

That was when Sigrid saw it. A round white ship with crescent-shaped wings veered away from the Dragon. It made a beeline for their spoke. Sigrid’s heart soared hopefully as she watched the ship grow nearer and nearer.

“Tauriel’s coming,” she whispered to Tilda. Bending down, she cupped her sister’s face in her hands. “Tauriel and Legolas are coming. They can help us find Da.” Tilda’s eyes filled with tears. She grabbed her sister in a strong grip.

The Elven ship flipped sideways and connected with the force-field. Gold streaks pulsed down the ship from its engine. They stopped in large rings directly against the force-field. They came repeatedly until at last a hole began to open in the protecting shield. Petals twisted open on the top of the ship. Legolas stood there, one foot perched on the rim. He offered a hand out to Tilda and Sigrid.

“Come,” he urged. “Quickly, before Smaug comes back.” Tilda sobbed openly, rushing for the Elf who lifted her into the ship’s belly. Sigrid followed quickly. Legolas grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her in. The moment they were in, Tauriel straightened out the ship. The two girls and Elf slid down the curved wall, landing on the floor both gracefully and not-so, according to race. Legolas pulled both girls to their feet.

“Where is your brother?” Tauriel asked before anyone else could speak.

“He went to find Da,” Sigrid said. Legolas found himself with his arms full of a sobbing girl. Gently, he soothed Tilda, smoothing back her hair and whispering in Sindarin. “He has the black arrow.”

“Black arrow,” Legolas repeated, looking up from Tilda. He and Tauriel looked to each other. Sigrid saw a hopeful gleam in both Elves’ gazes. “If we can find Bain then we could bring down the Dragon.”

“We would need Bard as well,” Tauriel said. “Only he knows how to fire the black arrow.” She turned in her seat to face Sigrid. “Where are your brother and father?”

“Bain was heading to find Da,” Sigrid said. Legolas stood from his crouch. Tilda clung to his pants, crying fresh tears. “We don’t know where Da is.”

“Most likely arrested,” Legolas said. He drummed his fingers against his chin as he thought. “The power will have been shut down. Bard should have escaped by now.”

“I will send a feed to Bain,” Tauriel said, already turning back to the ship. A holographic screen flickered open. The ship connected her intercom to that of Lake-Towns. “Bain,” she said clearly. “If you can hear me, head for the prison area. You father should be down there.”

O.o.O

Bard’s shoulder slammed into the door just as it slid open. The lights in the hallway flickered and died out. For a second Bard just stood in the doorway, panting. The ship shuddered constantly now. All sounds of screams had faded away. The halls were deserted.

“Bain,” a voice echoed through the halls. Bard perked up at the familiar Elven tones. “If you can hear me, head for the prison area. Your father should be down there.”

“Bain,” Bard whispered to himself. If his son was looking for him that could only mean one thing. Bain had the black arrow. The Station jerked sideways and metal screamed. Bard kept a tight grip on the doorway, keeping himself steady throughout the ordeal. The Dragon was coming back around for another strike.

Heart in his throat, Bard tore down the hall. Red emergency lights flickered on. They filled the halls with a creepy glow. A computerized voice spoke, telling all occupants to make their way in an orderly fashion toward the docking station. They would be evacuated as soon as possible. Bard ignored both the lights and the order as he raced through the halls. He made his way up the stairs toward the upper levels.

And that was where he stopped. The spoke had been ripped off its hinges. Far away he could see the main part of the Station being circled by Smaug. The Dragon breathed a great tongue of flame along a floating spoke. Bard gasped out in disbelief. He’d been so close he’d almost failed. Leaning against the wall, he watched Smaug descend upon an abandoned spoke. Slowly, words came back to him. He spoke them aloud to himself.

_“Girion, Girion, Lord of Dale,_

_You’ve heard my cry, so don’t you fail,_

_The beast’s knocking, you know my fear,_

_The arrow’s ready, I’ve got it here.”_

The words brought back memory of his own father. They were a nursery rhyme passed down through generations. He’d taught it to both Sigrid and Bain. Tilda had already started learning it herself.

_“Fire and wing, they’ve both come now,_

_Save us from certain death, here is how,_

_The bow is strung, the arrow’s tight,_

_We’ll see her through to the end of flight.”_

The words echoed through the hall, bouncing off the walls. Bard let them fade away, watching Smaug abandon the now mangled spoke. There was no way to take him down. The Dragon would destroy Lake-Town then return to his golden horde.

Something silver caught Bard’s eyes. Squinting in the light of Dragon fire, he could just barely make it out. Soaring through sky, unhindered by Dragon fire or wing, was a ship. She was shaped like a bullet with only a single fin on her back. The very tip had been carved flat and hollowed out, a cradle of sorts. Bard’s breath caught in his throat. There, emblazoned along the sternum of the ship was a name. _Girion, Lord of Dale._

_“Girion, Girion, Lord of Dale,”_ Bard whispered to himself. The ship gave an extra burst of speed, heading directly for Bard. She banked at the last minute. Her side connected hard with the force-field. A single panel slid back to reveal the stomach of the ship. There was a single seat with a joystick. Built before the seat was a standing stool with a bow contraption and crosshairs.

Bard didn’t think twice. He leapt into the belly of the ship. The panel slid shut behind him. The ship hummed in greeting before flying sideways. Bard threw himself into the seat, grabbing the joystick. _Girion, Lord of Dale_ handed over the flight controls, though it kept the radar control to itself.

“Find the black arrow,” Bard said. _Girion, Lord of Dale_ whistled once and a screen flickered to life. A blip appeared on the radar among the wreckage of the mangled spoke. “Bain,” Bard whispered to himself. Pressing down on the joystick, he flew the ship forward.

O.o.O

Bain managed to shove the fallen metal off his legs. His right knee screamed in agony, a pole having snapped it from its socket. Breathing through the pain, Bain scrambled against the floor for the black arrow. Already he could feel the leak of pressure. Smaug had destroyed the spoke’s systems and the force-field was beginning to shut down. Soon Bain and everything else on this spoke would be sucked out. Lights flickered off. Sparks flew. He was about to die.

Bain’s fingers closed around the black arrow. The metal was cool to the touch. It gave him a comforting feeling, knowing he could have saved his family from death. It was imminent now. There was nothing to stop the Dragon from killing them all. Bain pulled the arrow close, clutching it to his chest.

“Bain,” his father’s voice cried distantly. Bain felt a tear slide down the side of his cheek. What he wouldn’t give to see his father one last time. “Bain, come with me!” his father’s voice shouted.

Hands grabbed Bain’s upper arms, dragging him from his dreams. His eyes snapped open in a flash. Above him stood his father, holding him by his arms. His father pulled him upright and dragged one of his arms over his shoulder.

“Da,” Bain croaked.

“Don’t speak now,” his father ordered, carrying him down the hall. Bain held up the black arrow for him to see.

“I have it, Da. I have the arrow.”

“Good boy, Bain,” his father praised. His steps didn’t falter. In fact, they grew quicker, his strides longer. Bard dragged his son through wreckage until they reached a ship Bain had never seen before. He read the name and his eyes widened.

_“Girion, Girion, Lord of Dale,”_ he recited.”

“That’s right, son,” his father panted. He dragged Bain through the opening of the ship, which slid shut behind them, and dumped him in the pilot’s chair. “This is the joystick. Hold the clamp and lean it forward. Fly for the Dragon. You control the gas, the ship will direct us.”

“Da, what’s going on?” Bard asked. His father took the arrow from him and stepped up on a round, silver step.

“I’m going to shoot the Dragon,” Bard said calmly. “Now fly.” Bain obeyed. Wrapping his fingers around the joystick, he held the clap down and pushed it forward. The ship shot forward with a jet of speed. Directly ahead Bain could see Smaug circling another spoke.

“Steady,” Bard muttered. He loaded the black arrow into the contraption and yanked the cord back. It clicked in place. Bard struggled to hold the joystick steady, increasing the speed slightly.

With every yard they gained on Smaug the whip began to rock back and forth more. The blasts from the wings buffeted it to and fro. Bain struggled to keep his grip on the joystick steady and firm. Twice Bard fell from the step, both times getting back up and leaping onto the stool.

They came within forty yards of Smaug when the Dragon flew in their direction. He bypassed them completely, his tail flying overhead. It narrowly missed the ship. Bard twisted to watch through another window.

“Turn around!” he shouted. The ship obliged, turning on the spot. Bain gave it a burst of speed and they flew toward Smaug who veered around. The Dragon stared at them for a moment. Bard swallowed hard. “Let up,” Bard ordered softly. Bain released the joystick. They stopped where they were.

Smaug, glittering in his armor of gold and jewels, stared at them with cold red eyes. He licked his lips, his forked tongue dancing over scales. Bain’s chest heaved with every breath he took. He could feel the Dragon’s gaze penetrating him. Smaug grinned, licking his lips one more time, before he soared in their direction. Bain could see his chest glowing in preparation for the fire.

“Bard!” a voice shouted through the intercom. “There is a weak spot under the left breast, a scale missing.” Bard’s eyes snapped back to the Dragon. Beyond it he could see a white ship floating idly. An Elven ship, most likely. No ship of theirs would ever look that regal.

“Da,” Bain whispered. His father’s shoulders tensed. The ship’s scanners screamed warnings. The crosshairs lit up.

It all happened in a flash. Smaug flew at them. Bard pulled the trigger. The arrow flew straight and true through the space. It struck home in the Dragon’s left breast, piercing his heart. Smaug’s eyes widened in horror. The fire died down in his belly and he twisted in midair, coming to a complete stop. Bain watched as the Dragon writhed, his mouth open in screams that went unheard. It was over a matter of seconds. Smaug hung dead in mid-air. His red eyes had lost their brilliant color.

Smaug the tyrannical was dead.


	51. Implicit and Invoked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Fifty chapters! That doesn't count the prologue. So happy birthday, Bilbo, this is when your adventure started!
> 
> And can we please stop with the added drama?! This was supposed to be an easy story!

**Implicit and Invoked**

They gathered together as far away from Lake-Town as they possibly could. Ships with room to spare or empty pods were sent back to the colony to find survivors in the spokes. These ships skirted the body of Smaug, giving it a wide berth. Smaller escape pods and minor ships continued to make their way toward the congregation. Less than half the population of Lake-Town had survived the attack. The Master was nowhere to be seen. Nor was his weasel of a henchman. Most considered, and wished, him dead. The Master had done nothing but brought pain and suffering down upon them. The ships were in disarray.

Bard managed to dock on a large barge barely filled with prisoners. He eased his son from the pilot’s seat and helped him limp from the ship. Together they stepped down onto solid ground. Shouts greeted them almost instantly.

“Bard, you did it!”

“I saw him! He shot the arrow!”

“Where’d you get the ship, Bard?”

Bard ignored the questions and comments thrown his way in favor of his son. He hadn’t missed the way Bain’s knee had been mangled. The injury looked painful, his pants leg coated in crusting red. Bard shoved his way through the crowd until he found a suitable place for his son to rest. Easing Bain down onto the box, he turned to the crowd.

“I need a medic,” he shouted. “Is there a medic on board?”

“Not a one,” one man said. “We fled as quickly as we could.”

“We can talk to another ship,” said the copilot. “Maybe they could send us over a medic.”

“There’s no time for that,” Bard said, looking at the men and women surrounding him. “Isn’t there anyone here who has some kind of medical training?”

“There is now,” a clear voice rang across the deck. The crowds parted to reveal Tauriel. The Elf stood tall, her back straight, with Legolas at her side. Sigrid and Tilda stood before them, their eyes wide as they stared at their father.

“Da!” Tilda cried out, racing forward. Bard swept her into his arms. He littered her face with kisses.

“You’re alive,” he muttered to his giggling daughter. “Thanks the heavens.” Sigrid latched herself around his waist, burying her face in his stomach.

“Da,” she muttered. “You shot him down. I saw you.”

Tauriel and Legolas made their way through the crowds. A single look from Legolas sent the men and women scurrying off to find work for themselves. The two Elves stopped before Bard and his family. The Man looked them over, relief in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. “For saving my daughters.”

“It was the least we could do,” Legolas told him. “Our ship’s weapons were useless against Smaug. You were wise to activate the ship of Girion.”

“An accident, really,” Bard admitted. Tauriel chuckled and Legolas smiled. “Would you be able to help my son?” Bard asked the Elves. At that Tauriel smiled.

“Of course,” she said. Motioning to Legolas, they each took one of Bain’s arms and lifted him from the box. Together they carried him into an empty room for privacy. Bard followed them with Sigrid and Tilda, shutting the door behind them. The two Elves lifted Bain onto a table. Legolas rolled the pants leg up, already beginning to exam it.

“It is a dislocation,” he said eventually. “Nothing Tauriel and I cannot fix.” Bard watched the two Elves speak to one another in Sindarin. Tauriel seemed hesitant about something while Legolas spoke in sharp tones. Eventually they seemed to come to a compromise. Bain bit his lip nervously as Tauriel pinned his leg down.

“This may hurt a bit,” Legolas admitted. Bard’s hands flew to Tilda, covering her ears, just Sigrid clapped her hands over her own. Bain stiffened. In one swift move, Legolas relocated the kneecap. Bain howled in agony, thrashing against the pain. Tauriel kept him pinned there. Her hands held his leg steady to prevent any further injury. Eventually Bain fell still. Legolas leaned over to exam him.

“He has passed out from the pain,” he said. “Tauriel, bind the leg. It need to remain immobile.” Tauriel nodded once and hurried to find binding and splints. Bard removed his hands from Tilda’s ears. His daughter kept her face hidden in his leg. Legolas straightened and turned to him.

“I am sorry,” the Elf said. “There was no other way. We have no pain medication to give him.”

“All the same,” Bard said, taking a steadying breath. “Thank you.” He relinquished his grip on Tilda when Sigrid tugged at her sister’s arm. She pulled Tilda into a hug, drawing her away from the three adults.

“That was a brave thing you did back there,” Legolas told the Man. Bard gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Not many would have been willing to shoot a Dragon with a black arrow.”

“Not many would’ve had a black arrow,” Bard pointed out, and Legolas chuckled.

“You are right about that.”

“What now?” Tauriel asked as she finished binding Bain’s leg. Rolling up a blanket, she shoved it under his head. “Your home is destroyed. These ships cannot last forever.”

“We go to Erebor,” Bard said. Both Tauriel and Legolas stared at him in disbelief. “It is closer to Lake-Town than the Woodland Realm is. We could make it there in a little over a day. Hopefully Thorin will allow us to use Dale for rest.”

“I do not see why he should not,” Tauriel agreed. “It is your birthright as much as the mountain is his.”

“Thorin has been gracious enough with what little he has had to offer,” Legolas said, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. “Tauriel and I have found a safe route through the Crown. We can lead you there.”

“That’d be great,” Bard said. Easing himself onto a box behind him, he sighed in exhaustion. “I hope we can make it there before any fuel runs out.”

“You should be fine,” Tauriel said. “Otherwise we can always send for help from the crew of _the Arkenstone_. I can send a message to Nori or Kili to let them know we are coming.”

“Do that,” Legolas said. “In the meantime I will tell every ship in this convoy to make for Erebor. Tauriel and I will lead the way.” Bard nodded, already feeling his eyes slip shut. A blanket draped over his form. A door opened, Elven footsteps faded away, and the door shut, latching.

O.o.O

Bilbo found himself a quiet place on the outer parapets for some privacy. Balin’s words still rang in his head. He needed to get rid of the stone. But he didn’t know how. If he just tossed it aside then Thorin would undoubtedly find it. If he told Thorin then the entire universe would be in danger. He couldn’t destroy the stone. Balin had said it was made of mithril . . . whatever that was. Something strong, Bilbo supposed. Bilbo groaned, his head falling into his hands. What was he supposed to do?

Thorin was going crazy. Nearly two days had passed since Smaug had left the mountain. Nori had received a message from Tauriel. It passed around the hall in hushed whispers, all speakers avoiding Thorin completely. None wanted him to know. Smaug was dead. Bard had killed him while he destroyed Lake-Town. The survivors were heading for Dale. Thorin would not be happy about that. Bilbo knew that for a fact.

Looking behind himself, Bilbo made sure the coast was clear before he reached into his shirt. He drew the stone out from the depths of his clothes. It was a small stone, fitting into his hand easily. It glittered white with rainbow streaks in the light of the suns. The stone was pretty, Bilbo admitted, but there was nothing else to it. He wasn’t drawn into the horde of gold like Thorin was. He didn’t care for power or riches. He just wanted to go home.

_There’s an easy way out of this_ , a voice whispered in his mind. Shutting his eyes tight, Bilbo tried to ignore it. With every passing minute it started to sound more reasonable. He was starting to see little to no escape from this dilemma. _It’s easy. Just jump_.

“No,” Bilbo muttered to himself. Standing from his seat on a stone, he stumbled away from the wall. He wouldn’t listen to the voice. Not yet, anyway.

The stone in his hand grew warm. A humming filled the air. Bilbo spared a glance down before doing a double-take. The stone had begun to glow, its light growing. The facets of the stone clicked open to reveal the innards. Tiny pieces of technology clicked and whirred in their places. A miniscule projector in the very center lit up. Several holographic screens flickered to life in the air around Bilbo. He watched with wide eyes as sound played from the Arkenstone. Voices overlapped one another, creating a confusing cacophony of sounds.

_“Harfoots descended from Man – Sauron had attacked – Gondor weak from defenses in south – Rohan abandoned to own defenses”_ The words went on and on. The volume began to grow.

“Master Baggins,” a voice called. Terror flooded Bilbo’s veins like ice. Seizing the Arkenstone, he snapped it shut and shoved it down his shirt. The holographic screens and sounds vanished with the loss of their source. Thorin stepped out onto the parapet. He appraised the sight of Bilbo seated on the stone floor. “Master Baggins,” he greeted.

“Master Oakenshield,” Bilbo said back. They stood like that, Dwarf and Hobbit staring at each other. Finally, Thorin moved to sit on a stone beside Bilbo. The Hobbit shifted slightly away from him.

“You have never called me Master Oakenshield before,” the Dwarf noted.

“You don’t usually call me Master Baggins,” Bilbo pointed out. “So I guess that makes us equal.” Thorin chuckled at that. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, looking for your stone?” Thorin’s face darkened at the mention of the stone.

“Balin sent me to find you,” he said. “He told me it was of the upmost importance.”

“And why’s that?” Bilbo snapped.

“Because he has seen you,” Thorin said. “You tread lightly, your head jerking this way and that. Words spoken your way now rarely go untested and overthought. You are growing paranoid, Master Baggins.”

“I’m not growing paranoid,” Bilbo argued. “I’m just surrounded by a bunch of Dwarves in a gold mine. Who knows what could happen?”

“You are safe while you are by my side,” Thorin assured him. “I would not let anything harm you.”

“That’s just the thing. I don’t need your protection. You’ve gone mad, Thorin Oakenshield. You’re obsessed with that damn stone. You’re hardly eating or sleeping. You’ll kill yourself over it.”

“You are wrong. You do not understand what you are talking about.”

“Yes, I do, Thorin. I can see it in your eyes. You’re getting madder with every day that you’re in this mountain.”

“Do not talk about things you do not understand,” Thorin snarled. His snapped out and, before Bilbo could react, it wrapped around the Hobbit’s throat. He found himself dragged toward Thorin. Their faces were mere inches apart. From this distance he could see the black rings around Thorin’s blue irises.

“There is no Dragon Sickness,” Thorin growled, shaking Bilbo. The Hobbit whimpered and shut his eyes tight. “It is a figment of your imagination. This stone will pave our way into pace. You will see, Master Baggins.” Standing, he shoved Bilbo away from him and stormed back the way he came.

Bilbo stumbled backward. His back collided with the stone wall of the parapet. He watched the edge of Thorin’s coat vanish around the corner. Thoughts whirled about through his head. They battled with one another, warring for control of his thought process. Thorin had finally lost it. He was gone forever in the throes of madness. And if Thorin could succumb so quickly to the Dragon Sickness then why couldn’t the others? Bilbo would be trapped, surrounded by enemies.

What happened next Bilbo never quite understood. It was as though his mind made up two decisions at once. One minute he stood alone on the parapet and the next he had thrown himself over the edge. His fingers caught the bare edge of the stone wall just before he could fall any further. The reality struck him harder than a ton of bricks. His feet kicked blindly at the wall beneath his toes. His fingers screamed in pain, slipping centimeter by centimeter. What had he done?

Terror in his heart and eyes shut tight, Bilbo yowled.

O.o.O

The sound came while the crew was searching through the gold. Nori straightened up. A gold chalice fell from his fingers. He listened intently as the sound bounced off the walls. It faded away then came again, fresh yowls filling his ears. Nori frowned in confusion. Several feet away, Bofur straightened up from his own digging.

“Was that a fox?” he asked.

“What’s a fox doing this far out?” Kili commented. “There’s no forests near here.”

“Foxes are not native to this region,” Balin said. Beside him Dori frowned. All four Dwarves turned to him. “Something you wish to share, Dori.”

“Well, it’s about Hobbits,” Dori said.

“What about them?” Bofur asked curiously. The gray-haired Dwarf hesitated, tugging on his beard, before continuing.

“As you know, Hobbits can make a wide range of noises. This includes imitating sounds.”

“So?” Kili asked, earning himself a glare form Dori.

“So, young faunts are taught very strictly when they’re young to make certain sounds,” Dori snapped. “When they’re lost in the forest they’re taught to make sounds like a doorbell or a teakettle whistling.”

“Why?” Nori asked. Stretching, he listened contently to his own back popping. It felt good after hours of searching for the Arkenstone.

“Because you don’t find teakettles and doorbells out in the forest,” Dori explained. “When faunts make that sound the adults know something is wrong and they rush to find him.”

“Then Bilbo’s makin’ a fox sound,” Bofur said softly. “He’s in trouble.” The five Dwarves stood stock still, knee-deep in gold. Bofur was the first to move. He darted for the stairs, Nori hot on his heels. The two friends followed the source of yowls through the winding staircases. Twice Bofur paused to listen.

“The parapets,” Nori panted, shoving at his friend. “Move!” Bofur dashed up the steps toward the entrance door to the parapets. They passed Thorin on the way up. The captain frowned as they shoved past.

“You two are supposed to be finding the Arkenstone,” he called out. “Why are you not down there looking?”

“Bilbo’s in trouble,” Nori shouted over his shoulder. “So shut up and leave us alone!” Anything Thorin shouted after them went ignored.

Bofur and Nori pounded through the door to the parapets. Nori’s head whipped around, his eyes searching every inch of the area. Bilbo was nowhere to be found. Bofur looked behind crumbling rock before turning and calling for their friend.

“Bilbo! Bilbo, where are ya?”

“Here,” came the weak cry. Nori and Bofur scrambled toward the wall. Dangling by the edge of his fingertips, Bilbo stared up at them balefully.

“We’ve got ya, buddy,” Bofur said.

Nori reached down and wrapped one hand around Bilbo’s wrist. This whole situation strangely reminded him of another very similar ordeal. One in which Thorin insulted Bilbo and Bilbo overreacted. Nori’s eyes narrowed. Thorin had said something. Bofur grabbed Bilbo’s other arm and together they hauled him up and over the side. Bilbo collapsed in a sobbing heap on top of Nori’s chest. Nori just held him close, cooing in the Hobbit’s ear. Bofur ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair comfortingly.

“What happened, Bilbo?” he asked. “Did ya fall?” Bilbo shook his head, fresh sobs wracking his body.

“You jumped,” Nori whispered. Thorin and Kili had both told them about Bilbo, warned them what could happen if they weren’t careful. And now . . . “That bastard,” Nori growled. Sitting up, he shoved Bilbo into Bofur’s arms. “Hold him.”

“Where’re you going?” Bofur asked as Nori stood and stormed from the room.

“To kill a captain,” Nori shouted over his shoulder. “And you can’t stop me!” Bofur didn’t make a single sound of argument.

Nori knew where his captain would be. Thorin had spent every waking minute of his day on the balcony overseeing the treasure horde. He couldn’t be bothered to actually help look for the stone. Let his crew do all the hard work. Sure enough, Thorin was pacing the balcony when Nori found him. Nori didn’t bother with greetings or insults. He just threw himself at his captain. The tackle caused Thorin to shout in surprise and sent them both tumbling over the edge. They landed hard on a stairwell landing, wrestling. Nori managed to seat himself on Thorin’s chest and wrapped his hands around his captain’s throat.

“You bastard!” he shouted furiously. Thorin scrabbled at his hands like a mad man. “You son of a bitch! Do you have any idea what you did?”

“Nori, what are you doing?” Dori howled from somewhere below.

“Nori,” Dwalin roared, plunging his way through the gold. “Get off him!”

“I’ll kill you, Thorin!” Nori tightened his hold. Thorin struggled underneath him, managing to flip the two. Nori wrapped his legs around his captain’s neck in a wrestling move before the other Dwarf could get the upper hand. The two struggled wildly, rolling back and forth, until they finally tipped over the edge. Roars echoed off the wall as they landed in the gold piles, tumbling down it. They fell several feet apart.

Nori leapt to his feet in seconds, prepared to throw himself at his captain. He was too late. Thorin leapt on him, tackling him back to the ground. The captain seized the thief’s hair in a tight grip and wrenched his neck back. Nori yowled at the fresh waves of pain. Somewhere far off Balin shouted for them to stop while Ori cried for Dori. Bifur roared furiously in Khuzdul.

“Break it up!” Dwalin shouted over the chaos. “Knock it off!”

Yanking his hair free, Nori punched Thorin in the jaw. The captain’s teeth clicked shut audibly and he tumbled backward. Nori threw himself at his captain. Thorin caught him in the stomach with his legs and propelled him backward where Nori landed in a pile of gold. Strong hands wrapped around Nori’s arms, pulling him against a chest. Nori struggled briefly until a voice shouted.

“That’s enough,” Dori snapped. Nori fell limp in his brother’s grasp, panting. His hair hung in his face now and his lip had split. “What is the meaning of this?”

“He attacked me,” Thorin growled. Dwalin had dragged him into a full nelson, holding the captain still. Balin, having arrived only seconds ago, turned to Nori.

“Is this true?”

“Aye,” Nori snarled.

“Nori, why’d you attack him?” Dori moaned. “He could have killed you.”

“Fine by me,” Nori spat out, and Ori whimpered. “You don’t know what he’s done.”

“Then enlighten us,” Dwalin managed to growl out from holding his captain steady.

“He did it. He broke Bilbo.”

“What are you talking about?” Dori asked in confusion.

“That fox yowling? That was Bilbo. He threw himself over the edge to kill himself.” A collective gasp echoed through the Dwarves. Dori dropped Nori to the ground in shock. Nori remained there, panting and licking at his bleeding lip. Thorin looked aghast. And for a moment Nori thought he had returned.

“Where is he now?” Balin demanded.

“Bofur’s with him up on the parapet. I came down to kill Thorin.” No one argued with that. Thorin’s face hardened. His moment of lucidity vanished.

“Someone needs to remain with him at all times,” Balin said, planting his hands on his hips. “We need to get him out of this mountain.”

“No one is leaving this mountain,” Thorin growled. “That is an order.” His first-mate glared at him.

“You almost killed Bilbo. You and your misspoken words. If he stays another minute you could very well be the death of him. Once upon a time I would’ve thought him joining the crew would be the best idea. Now I’m not so sure.” The words rang clear through the hall. Nori had to agree with Bilbo. Once the Men of Lake-Town came they could get Bilbo to a safe place. Slowly, Dwalin released his captain until Thorin stood on his own. He straightened his coat.

“Master Baggins is not leaving this mountain again,” he growled, stepping up to shove his face into Balin’s. “Anyone who disobeys my order will find themselves in more trouble than they could have imagined.” Only Dori’s hand on his shoulder stopped Nori from launching himself at the captain. Balin kept a steady eye-contact with the younger Dwarf before he finally stepped back lowered his hands.

“So be it,” Balin said, and Thorin smirked in victory. “But you are not to go near Bilbo. You will not speak to him, you will not look at him, and you will not show yourself to him in anyway.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Thorin demanded. This time Balin stepped up to be in his face. The first-mate’s gaze was stern as he spoke.

“You are a danger to yourself and those around you, Thorin Oakenshield,” he said. “I don’t know what excuses you’re using to defend your actions but they don’t matter to me. You almost killed Bilbo today. What would happen if you went near him again? You are going to be the death of everyone in this mountain if you’re not careful.” Whatever Thorin had to say to that was broken by Bofur shout.

“The survivors from Lake-Town!” the engineer called from the doorway of the parapet. “They’re in Dale!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again we find another little twist in our plot. Why? Why me?


	52. Hysterics and Heresy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note before we get started! I'm taking an online course for college this winter break. I'll be doing that alongside working, so I'll update when I can find the time. As it just started today, I don't exactly know what my schedule will be like.

**Hysterics and Heresy**

Kili had never seen his uncle move so quickly. Before Bofur had even finished his news, the captain of  _the Arkenstone_ had already thrown himself toward the stairs. Kili stood there dumbly for a moment, wondering just what was happening, before Fili raced past him. His brother grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along.

“I can walk on my own,” Kili protested. Fili just snorted and released him. Together they hurried up the stairs after their uncle. The rest of the crew followed as quickly as they could, Dori pausing to help Nori to his feet. The thief’s lip had already begun to heal thanks to the medical mites.

They reached the door to the parapet in seconds. Bofur sidled past them, his hand wrapped around something in midair. A quick nod from him told them just what he had in his hold. Fili and Kili stepped aside to let the engineer past. Bofur waved off Nori’s offer to help, telling him he had to do this alone otherwise Thorin might suspect something. Kili hated to say it, but he agreed. Thorin was a loose cannon right now. Anything could have set him off.

Thorin had already reached the parapet wall by the time Kili stepped out of the doorway. Crumbling chunks of stone littered the area. The remains of torn and burned flags fluttered weakly in the wind. Several crumbled with even the slightest touch. It was a wonder they had even lasted this long. A large chunk of the parapet was missing from Smaug’s thrashing leave of the mountain. One wrong step and it was splat.

Kili took care to avoid the deathly edge of parapet. He stepped up on Thorin’s left side. His brother stepped up to their uncle’s right side. Together they stood there, sons of Durin and rulers of the mountain. If only they had something worth ruling. Kili was really starting to regret the horde of gold waiting for them in the treasury room. It had brought nothing but trouble upon them.

“How many are there?” Fili asked. Kili turned his gaze toward what had once been the flourishing city of Dale.

They descended from the sky like flies on a carcass, ships of all different shapes and sizes. Some were small and shaped like the ship Bard had used to retrieve the barrels while others were either longer or larger, clearly made to tow tons of crops or fish, not people. They landed deftly on what had once been Dale’s landing pad. Several times rubble had to be cleared away before a ship could land. But when those doors opened . . . Kili had never seen such a happy gathering before. Even from afar he could see the tears as loved ones found their families. Grieving howls echoed through the air for the lost family members.

Two ships in particular refused to land on the pad. They were a silver bullet-shaped ship and a round white ship with crescent-shaped wings. These ships flew round and round the landing pad. They escorted larger ships toward empty spaces or flew upward to guide a pilot in the right direction. Each time they returned, moving around each other with ease. Kili didn’t recognize either ship, though he could tell one of them was clearly Elven.

“Those poor people,” Kili said breathlessly. His brother grunted in the back of his throat. Whether he agreed or was warning Kili, the younger brother would never know. His mouth decided it would continue before his brain could catch up. “We need to help them.” Balin sighed audibly from his spot behind Fili.

“We will do no such thing,” Thorin said, turning away from the landing ships. “They are not our problem . . . yet.”

Kili stared at his uncle in disbelief. He’d never known his uncle to do this before. Once, when they’d come across an Orc-stuck ship, Thorin had demanded they board. No amount of argument from Dwalin or Balin had stopped him. They’d ended up finding a five year-old girl just barely hanging onto life. Their job at the time had been abandoned for taking the girl back to the Rohan System where she had come from. This was not his uncle.

“How can you say that?” Kili demanded. Behind their uncle’s back, Fili shook his head quickly. Kili ignored the gesture and pressed on, even when Thorin turned to glare at him. “Those people out there are barely hanging on. They won’t have enough food to last through three days. Ships don’t have rations that large.”

“Then that is their problem,” Thorin said darkly. When he turned away to speak to Balin, Kili grabbed his uncle’s shoulder and spun him around. The look he received sent a shiver down his spine.

“You can’t just abandon them,” Kili said. His brother added waving arms to his list of _don’t do it_ gestures. “Those people are grieving. How many do you think actually survived the attack?”

“Kili,” Thorin said in a warning tone.

“No, you listen to me. It’s thanks to them we’re alive, Tauriel told me so. Bard shot Smaug with a black arrow and killed him. If he hadn’t done that then we’d be dead. Smaug would have come back and killed us all. There wouldn’t have been any gold or Arkenstone.”

“Do not talk about things you do not understand.”

“What don’t I understand, Uncle? Because right now, it’s you,” Kili snapped. His words echoed across the parapet.

“Laddie,” Balin said slowly, stepping forward. Thorin threw up a hand and the first-mate paused. His eyes flicked between uncle and nephew. Thorin had never been known to manhandle his nephews except when they were causing trouble. But that was then and this was now. Who knew what Thorin was capable of?

“You almost killed Bilbo,” Kili said, tears in his eyes. His uncle stepped forward slowly, each boot sounding ominous against the stone. Kili held his ground as he spoke. “Please, this isn’t you, Uncle. You’d never abandon anyone who needed our help. You didn’t even abandon Bilbo on Bree when you threatened to. Please come back to us.”

“I warned you,” Thorin said. He grabbed Kili’s upper arm in a strong grip. Kili tugged slightly and the fingers tightened, causing him to wince. “Not to talk about things you do not understand.” And then he flipped Kili right over the wall.

Shouts filled the still air. The air rushed past Kili, blowing his hair around. He felt the scream leave his lips but never heard it. The ground would rush up to meet him. He’d die arguing with his uncle. Something snagged the shoulder of his jacket and he jerked against the gravity. He swung there against the wall, held up by only his jacket. The ground below him leered treacherously. Rocks littered it, boulders from Smaug. Kili’s eyes snapped upward to find his uncle gripping his jacket in one hand. The other hand braced him against the wall. Balin and Fili both yanked at Thorin’s arms, Fili sobbing as he begged his uncle to stop.

“You will not speak against me again,” Thorin warned darkly. Kili swallowed hard. The tears burned his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. “I am the king of this mountain and you will remember that. My orders are not to be questioned.”

“But, Uncle,” Kili whispered. Thorin shook his roughly. A seam ripped audibly through the air. Shutting his eyes tight, Kili whimpered. The wind blew him against the stone wall. Fili’s pleads grew stronger as the seconds ticked by.

“Swear your allegiance to me,” Thorin said, shaking his nephew again. Kili cried out when he dropped several centimeters. Ori screamed from down the length of the wall. “Swear it to me or I will drop you right here, right now.”

“I-I swear it!” Kili screamed. The hand around his jacket clenched, stinging against his skin. “I swear on my father’s grave, I swear my allegiance to you.” He heard a dark chuckle before his uncle hauled him back up and over the wall. Kili collapsed on the stone floor sobbing. Fili’s arms wrapped around him consolingly, cooing in Kili’s ear. Kili gripped at the anchor of his life.

“Know this,” Thorin said loudly for all the Dwarves to hear. “If any of you dare to act out against me I will have you thrown over the wall. This is my kingdom. You. Obey. Me!” The last word echoed through the air. Fili’s arms tightened around his younger brother. No one spoke for several seconds. Content with the quiet agreement, Thorin turned to Balin. “Fire up the constructors. I want the wall repaired before dawn. No Man or Elf will walk into this mountain if I can help it.”

“Aye, Thorin,” Balin said. Thorin marched toward the door, pausing briefly to whisper in Balin’s ear. His first-mate winced but nodded. Only when their captain was gone did the crew speak.

“What’d he say?” Dori asked softly.

“He warned me about Bilbo,” Balin said. He turned to watch the ships landing, planting his hands on his hips. “He said he’ll take what he wants and we’ve no right to stop him.” Nori snarled, cracking his fingers furiously. Only his older brother’s firm hand kept him from another murder attempt. Bifur grunted in Khuzdul and Balin nodded sadly. “Aye, you’re right. We’d better get those constructers going. I’ll show you where they’re at.” The older Dwarf led the engineer through the doorway and back into the mountain.

Safe in his brother’s arms, Kili sobbed against Fili’s chest. His uncle was gone, lost in a fit of madness with no cure. This adventure was a disaster.

O.o.O

“Nori is not answering my calls,” Tauriel said as she hurried across the tarmac. She had landed the _Bainrîn_ only after every other ship had landed. Families had already begun to move toward Dale to find shelter. Sigrid had helped her brother limp into the city with their father’s orders. Tilda had trailed after them.

Bard glanced up from examining a ration. A captain had brought it him when he’d asked how much a single ration could feed. So far, this looked like nothing more than the bare essentials to avoid both starvation and illness. The nutrient supplements were bare minimum. They would be terrible for the children.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We’re close enough to have good reception.”

“That is the problem,” Tauriel said, pausing beside Bard. Legolas appeared from around another ship, examining a ration sample himself. He wandered vaguely in their direction, clearly distracted. “I believe Nori is simply ignoring me.”

“Have you tried contacting Kili?” Bard asked. He handed the ration sample off to a passing man. Legolas abandoned his own to a curious child before making his way toward his friend and their ally.

“I have,” Tauriel said. Legolas paused beside her, a disgusted look on his face.

“And?” Bard pressed.

“Nothing. Either their gadgets were crushed or they are ignoring our calls.”

“Why would they ignore us?” Bard asked.

“Something could have happened,” Legolas suggested. “My father always said the gold in that mountain is cursed. Thorin’s family is known for having a weak point to that curse.” Bard looked to Tauriel in confusion.

“A strain of an obsessive psychological disorder runs through their family. The Dwarves call it _Dragon Sickness_.”

“That’s bad,” Bard said, turning toward the mountain. “I was depending on their help.”

“If the Dwarves do have Dragon Sickness then there will be no help from them,” Legolas said. He looked toward the mountain then squinted, shielding his eyes against the suns. “Tauriel, _tiro_!”

Tauriel turned her own gaze toward the mountain. Just inside the gaping hole of the entrance door she could see several machines at work. They were rounded and small, shaped a bit like rather large beetles. Smoke billowed out from behind the machines. They used large pincers to place cooling bricks of melted stone.

“What is it?” Bard asked worriedly.

“Constructers,” Legolas hissed. “The Dwarves built machines to construct buildings for them. They melt down worn rock to recycle them into new bricks. Constructers can move vertically up a wall, finishing their work in mere hours.”

“What’re they doing?” Bard asked. The tone he spoke in suggested he already knew the answer.

“They are building a wall,” Tauriel said. “To keep us out.”

“I would not be surprised if they have activated the outer defenses,” Legolas said. “Thror armed the area surrounding the mountain with unmanned cannons and mines. Those weapons could have easily survived Smaug’s attack.”

“This is bad,” Bard said, running a hand down his face. “What do we do?” A sound caught Tauriel’s ears and she turned, curious. Then her eyes widened.

“We run,” she said.

“Run? Why do we need to run?”

“Not you, Legolas and I.” Legolas turned in confusion. His own eyes widened and he spun around, racing away. Tauriel followed hot on his heels.

Thranduil had come.

O.o.O

Bofur took Bilbo’s sword from him. He considered taking the ring for a moment then thought better of it. The Hobbit could need it at any moment. Thorin was unpredictable. Bilbo hadn’t exactly been happy about this new development. He pouted in the corner of the room Bofur had found for them. It was located on the upper levels of the mountain, tucked away where nobody would think to look.

“Stupid Dwarves,” Bilbo muttered. Bofur smiled through the mouthful of screws. In his lap he had the remains of a jetpack in his lap. He’d begun to dissemble it, putting it back together for a completely different use.

“It’s not like I was going to use it for anything else,” Bilbo continued to speak softly. Bofur’s eyes flicked up to the Hobbit. The screwdriver paused in the action of removing a screw. Reaching up, he removed the screws from his mouth.

“We’re worried about ya, Bilbo,” Bofur said. The Hobbit glared at him over his shoulder and Bofur sighed. “Look, ya threw yerself over the wall. Who knew what ya could do if I let ya have a sword?”

“I’m not going to do that again,” Bilbo said. Bofur gave him his best _I know better than that_ look. The Hobbit flushed and turned to face him. “Twitch my ears and wiggle my toes, I’ll take this promise wherever my path goes.” Bofur gaped at the Hobbit. Where had that nonsense come from?

“Come again?” he croaked out. The blush crept up Bilbo’s cheeks to his ears.

“I-It’s something my mother used to say,” the Hobbit said. Bofur blinked, still more confused than he felt he should be. “When I was little my mother used to go visit her sisters on the neighboring moon once a week. I didn’t like it very much. In fact, I hated it when something didn’t follow a schedule. My mother found out if she made me a promise that she’d return then I wouldn’t throw temper tantrums when she was gone.”

“So, it’s twinge yer ears?” Bofur asked, earning himself a snort from Bilbo.

“No: twitch my ears and wiggle my toes, I’ll take this promise wherever my path goes.”

“Cute rhyme,” Bofur said, returning to his project. The final screw fell out and he removed the panel. There, nestled in a nest of wires, was the piece he needed. He wrenched it free easily.

“So,” Bilbo said. “My mother taught me that when I make this promise I can’t break it. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Bofur repeated vaguely. An idea had become to pop into his head. “Did ya make this promise ever?”

“Of course. Both my mother and father wheedled it out of me several times.”

“And ya never broke them?”

“Nope. Not a single promise. It hurt too much to try.”

“Alright, then make me a promise.”

“Like what?”

“Promise not ta kill yerself.” Bilbo gaped at the Dwarf. Bofur paused once more in his work, giving Bilbo a stern look until the Hobbit sighed.

“Fine, twitch my ears and wiggle my toes I won’t try to kill myself.”

“Neither on purpose nor by accident?” Bofur asked.

“Why would I try to kill myself on accident? Isn’t that the whole point of suicide?”

“You’re getting off the topic.”

“ _Fine_. I promise! There, is that good enough for you?”

“Aye,” Bofur said. Lowering the project into his lap, he turned serious eyes on his friend. “And I, Bofur Broadbeam, promise I won’t let anything happen to ya. Thorin won’t get ya. Er, I can’t twitch my ears and I look stupid when I wiggle my toes.” Bilbo snorted. “So . . . strike the hammer and grind the stone, I’ll take this promise straight to home.”

“Well now you really can’t break that promise,” Bilbo said with a grin. His eyes fell to Bofur’s lap. “What are you working on, anyway?”

“I suppose you could say it’s part of my project,” Bofur said, screwing in the last screw. He lifted up the silver cylinder to show Bilbo. The Hobbit cocked his head in confusion. “It’s a sort of Taser. I reassembled the jetpack and raised the voltage high enough to knock a Dwarf off his feet. Not even Dwalin could stand up to this.” He handed the Taser over. Bilbo accepted it gingerly.

“Thanks, I suppose,” Bilbo said. “How do I use it?”

“Just push the button and stab someone. Piece of cake.”

“What if I accidently stab myself?”

“A normal Hobbit would die.”

“What do you mean a normal Hobbit?” Bilbo demanded in a squawk. Bofur froze. Had he really said that aloud? Bilbo’s glare suggested so. “I’m as normal as they come!”

“Er, well, Bilbo . . .” Bofur began, trying to find an excuse. When Bilbo’s fury turned to confusion and then worry, he found himself spilling it all. “Tauriel said ya can survive voltages of up to two thousand volts. That’s higher than the average Taser releases on contact. The Government tested ya fer it.” And then it all came out in a rush. He told Bilbo the truth about the Barrow Downs and the Shire System. How the Government was experimenting on Hobbits. Attercop had just been a test run on Bilbo to see his ability to adapt to stressful situations. Everything, from the very beginning to the very end.

“I don’t believe you,” Bilbo croaked out once he’d been silent for several minutes. Bofur’s shoulders slumped. He’d expected as much. “Prove it. Prove you’re not just being a liar.”

“Alright,” Bofur said. Scratching his chin, he thought hard for any examples. Then his eyes landed on Bilbo’s ears. “Yer not wearin’ translators,” he said. Bilbo’s fingers moved up to trace an ear. “Ya’ve learned Khuzdul. It probably only took you a few hours to get the hang of it. Ya know Rohirric, Hobbitish, and Westron as well. Where’d ya learn ta fix engines?”

“My Took cousins,” Bilbo said in a bare whisper. Bofur nodded.

“And how many lessons did they give ya?”

“None, I just watched them.”

“Right, and here’s another thing.” Reaching over, Bofur snatched the Taser from Bilbo and drove it into the Hobbit’s knee. Bilbo jumped in surprise but nothing more happened when Bofur pressed the button. The Taser clicked, the volts seared, and Bilbo still there wide-eyed. “Yer brain just rerouted all the electricity from the Taser into different parts of yer body. Ya’ve learned ta adapt.”

“So . . . the Government is making me kill myself?”

“Kind of,” Bofur said, handing the Taser back to his friend. “I’m guessin’ that poem yer mum taught ya has a conditioning effect on ya.”

“What?” Bilbo said in confusion.

“Ya say ya’ve never broken a promise ya’ve made when ya said those words. I’m think yer brain interprets the words with different meanin’ than ya know. Think of it like . . . takin’ it ta heart.”

“Where do you come up with these theories?”

“I have an IQ of one hundred thirty-nine,” Bofur pointed out. “Not exactly hard ta come up with this kind of stuff.”

“B-But . . .” Bilbo’s words failed him. Bofur watched, worried, until a familiar glint lit up in the Hobbit’s eyes. “Oh, _I’m going to kill him!_ ” the Hobbit hissed, leaping to his feet. Bofur jumped to his own. He recognized that look. It was the “I’m going to climb into the rafters and throw pointy stuff at Thorin” look.

“Bilbo, ya can’t,” Bofur said, stopping Bilbo when his friend headed for the door. “Thorin’s unstable.”

“I’ll show him unstable!” Bilbo threatened. “My entire race is being used as lab rats while Thorin’s out there throwing a childish temper tantrum. I’ll knock him into next week.”

“Look, ya go out there and the hammer and stones are useless. Thorin would kill ya in a second.” The words sank in. Bilbo hesitated, the fire dying in his eyes. “Just promise me ya’ll stay in this room. The others and I’ll get ya out of here as soon as we can.”

“Fine,” Bilbo mumbled. Then the light burned in his eyes and he lifted the Taser. “But the first chance I get . . .” He pressed the button.

He just never meant for it to jab Bofur in the chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THINK the title works for the chapter. Emphasis on the "think" . . . I don't know. What do you guys . . . think? Okay, way too many "thinks" in this note. It's giving me a headache.


	53. Greetings and Grating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so WanderingIdealism (I'm calling you 'Wandering' for short) pointed out that this is the first story where Bilbo wants to kill Thorin for the trouble he's causing. Here's why: I hate it when people write Bilbo out to be "I'm so sorry I gave them the stone, you're completely right and I was wrong" or "Hey! Look what I found!" To me it kind of makes Bilbo seem weak. That's why I changed it up a bit. Besides, someone's got to do it first.

**Greetings and Grating**

Bard had never met Thranduil in the flesh before. Tauriel had told stories, most of which he’d believed to me exaggerated. After meeting Legolas, though, he’d started to wonder if they were possibly true. Now, standing on the remains of a guard tower beside the Elvenking, Bard was starting to think Tauriel hadn’t been lying. The King released a haughty aura, turning up his nose when Bard offered his something to drink. Bard wouldn’t turn the King away. Not when Thranduil had been kind enough to bring food and aid for his people.

“So,” Thranduil said, drawing Bard away from his secret observations. The Elvenking kept his eyes trained on the sealed door of the mountain. “The Dwarves have built a wall.”

“They did it in six and a half hours,” Bard said, choosing his words carefully. “We’ve been trying to contact some of them, but they’re ignoring all our calls.”

“That is not surprising,” Thranduil said. He turned away from the tower to observe his own men preparing their weapons. “Dwarves are a greedy folk. Undoubtedly Oakenshield has fallen prey to the psychological disorder.”

“There’s no history of psychological problems past Thror,” Bard said in confusion. “I looked into it when Tauriel told me.” Thranduil looked to him with a raised eyebrow at the mention of the Elf captain. Bard flushed slightly. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“The disorder is by no means genetic,” Thranduil explained, brushing off the Elf captain’s name. “Thror was one of the seven Dwarf lords who held a seat in the Government. When the decision came, he chose to flee back to the Khazad System where the power went to his head. It is the Arkenstone that truly devoured his mental sanity.”

“What is the Arkenstone?”

“It is believed to be a stone of one of the original races. Once, before even the Elves’ time, there was another race who dominated these Systems. Many called them the Valar. It was Eru who created Man, Elf, and Hobbit. Aulë created the Dwarves. Yavanna created the Ents to protect the earths from the greed of the Dwarves.”

“And Sauron created the Orcs?” Bard said. Thranduil turned to give him a faint smile.

“No, that was the work of Melkor,” the Elf said. “Well known as Morgoth by many. At least, that is what the myths say. No one really knows who actually created us. With the evolution of science comes the loss of religion. Only the Elves cling to it anymore.”

“What does this have to do with the Arkenstone?”

“The Arkenstone is believed by scholars to be related to the Silmaril Maedhros threw aside. The tale states the original owner of the Silmaril, Fëanor, was furious with the loss of his stone. He cursed it that any who had the stone would be filled with greed and commit murder. It is a testament to how much he cherished the stone.”

Bard turned to look back toward the mountain. The Constructers had been left on the upper wall, smoke still billowing from their back ends. If he stared long enough, he swore he could make out stocky figures moving back and forth along the wall.

“Where is he?” Thranduil suddenly asked. Bard looked to the Elvenking in confusion, earning himself a stern look. “The _Perian_ , where is? I assumed he remained with you while the Dwarves entered the mountain.”

“No, he didn’t,” Bard said, and Thranduil scowled. “The Dwarves took him with them.”

“They had no right to do that. The _Perian_ is, by law, the property of the Government. There is a ship waiting for me to bring him to them.”

“Is that the only reason you came down here?” Thranduil chuckled at the question.

“By all means, no. There are gems in those mountain that belong to me. The Dwarves mined them for me, I paid them, and they never delivered. I want what is rightfully mine.”

“Then why do you care for Bilbo at all?” Bard demanded. Thranduil sighed and turned to face him. In his eyes, Bard could see a pained look.

“Did you know the _Perian_ once inhabited this System?” the Elf said.

“The Government says they’re native to the Shire System.”

“And do you believe that?”

“Not for a second. Tauriel told me what the enemy did to them and what the Government is doing right now.”

“What the Government is currently doing is not my problem,” Thranduil said. Bard scowled at him, fury roiling in his stomach. “There are three breeds of the _Perian_ : the Stoors, the Harfoots, and the Fallohides. The Fallohides themselves were native to my own System. We brought them over during the migration.”

“You knew one,” Bard said in a soft voice, and Thranduil nodded.

“Yes, her name was Uilos. She lived on a distant moon but would travel the hour-long trip to speak with me and give advice. The Fallohides were leaders by heart. They loved nothing more than to give wise advice to those who asked. Uilos meant everything to me. I blessed her marriage when she found a mate and she declared me her daughter’s godfather. Uilos and her husband died from a plague when their daughter was only three years old, still a babe.”

“And you took her in?”

“What else could I do?” Thranduil asked. “Legolas was not even considered yet. I took in the child and named her Bainrîn, beautiful remembrance.” Bard’s eyes flicked to the Elven ship Tauriel flew, stolen from the King’s own hall. “Bainrîn was the sweetest child I ever met, eager to learn anything from her dear father. I told her all she wished to know and, when the time came, I told her of her own parents and their death. Bainrîn never detested me for what happened. She only loved me more. And then she turned thirty-three.”

“What happened?” Bard asked. The King looked to him, the hurt clear in his eyes.

“Bainrîn asked me to allow her one journey on her own. She wanted to take a ship out to her home moon and visit her parent’s graves.”

“You let her?”

“What else could I do? I gave her my blessing, packed her ship myself, and wished her well. That was sixteen hundred years ago.” Bard shut his eyes against the pain. He knew what was coming. “My guards found her ship abandoned not far from her home planet. It had been struck by Sauron. My sweet child was stolen away from me.”

“Did she survive the experiment?” Bard asked softly, opening his eyes. He found the Elvenking watching him, testing him for the truth.

“The Government would not allow me to see the _Perian_ ,” Thranduil said, a hurt note in his voice. “Mithrandir has brought me constant news from there. He told me my daughter survived. She became the head of the House of Took, a wise leader beloved by all.”

“Then why not let Bilbo go?” Bard demanded. The hurt look vanished from Thranduil’s eyes, replaced by testy fury. “He’s got Took in him, Bofur told me so. The Government’s been experimenting on him. They’ll cut his head open if they get a hold of him. Would you want that to happen to your own daughter?”

“This is the matter of the Government,” Thranduil hissed. “The only reason they are not here is due to the fourteenth decree of the constitution. Unless Government officials have had contact with either the criminal or victim in question, they have no authorization to enter the dwelling or building of safety.”

“Good,” Bard snapped. “That gives them time to run. Bilbo Baggins is in danger if he goes back to the Government. See for yourself, talk to him.”

“That would be impossible, as he is currently hidden away in a mountain of Dwarves.”

“Not for long,” Bard said, making his way toward the stairs. “Not if I can help it.”

“Where are you going?” Thranduil asked curiously.

“To speak to a Dwarf King!”

O.o.O

Bilbo obeyed Bofur’s words to the point. He wandered around the mountain but avoided the treasury room altogether. He’d run into several of the other crew members while they moved through the halls. When he’d found Kili sobbing, he’d comforted the young Dwarf as best as he could. Dwalin accidently snuck up on him at one point and Bilbo, in a fit of terror and surprise, had jabbed him with the Taser. Bofur hadn’t been joking. Dwalin had hit the floor like a ton of bricks, spasming with the shocks. Bilbo hadn’t stopped apologizing since.

“Bilbo,” a soft voice called. Beside a bookshelf in the library, Bilbo froze. His eyes flicked around the room while his hand slipped into his pocket. Ori wandered into the library, wringing his hands. “Dori sent me, we need you up at the wall.”

“Will Thorin be there?” Bilbo asked, causing Ori to leap in surprise. “Sorry, ring.”

“Right, I forgot about that. Yes, Thorin’ll be there, but Nori sent me with a message.”

“What kind of message?” Bilbo asked curiously. Ori flushed brightly, his hands wringing tighter.

“Um, well, strike the hammer and grind the stone, we’ll take this promise straight to home,” the young Dwarf muttered. Bilbo blinked once then broke out into laughter. Bofur must have told the rest of the crew about the promise. “Not funny!”

“No, no, you’re right,” Bilbo said, waving a hand. He stopped when he realized when Ori wouldn’t see him. “I’ll come with you, but I won’t take the ring off.”

“That’s fine,” Ori said. “We’re going out to the parapets.”

“Lead the way.”

Ori led him through the halls of the mountain into the treasury room. From there they took several stairwells to the upper levels. The rest of the crew had already assembled on the parapets. Nori turned at his brother’s arrival, grinning when his younger brother gave him the tiniest of nods. Bilbo frowned at the obvious black bruise on the thief’s face. It looked like he’d gotten into another fight. Thorin stood in the very center of the newly built wall. The Constructers had been driven down the wall to rest on the floor. The captain stared down at something on the ground. Stepping up, Bilbo looked down to spot Bard. The Man stood, no _floated_ , on a silver board of some sort, his arms crossed.

“Why have you come here?” Thorin shouted down to the Man. Bilbo stepped closer to Bofur. The engineer wrapped an arm around his shoulder while placed himself between his friend and the captain.

“Why’d you lock yourself in the mountain?” Bard retorted. “Why are you hiding away like a robber guarding his horde?”

“Why do you come to my door as a robber,” Thorin said. “Or a beggar pleading for food.” Bilbo groaned inwardly. It was just like the jerk of a king to piss of their one and only ally. Bard bristled outwardly at the words.

“We’re not thieves nor beggars,” he called up. “The Elves brought us food and water, something you refused to do.”

“You did not ask.”

“Your Dwarves would not answer our calls.” Thorin glared over his shoulder at his crew. Kili shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Besides, some of that treasure belongs to me.” Thorin’s head snapped back around. Bard straightened up as best as he could on the hovering board. “I am the rightful heir of Girion, Lord of Dale. I have the _Windlass_ Thror built for Dale’s protection. It came at my call.”

“I have no need for a _Windlass_ ,” Thorin shouted. “And I will not give up a single coin to anyone who claims to be an heir to a King of Men.” Bard frowned, his arms lowering.

“Lord Thranduil has come,” the Man said. Bilbo’s ears perked up curiously. Leaning over, he watched the Man with intent. “He’s brought an army with him.”

“Let him come. These walls will hold.”

“Not against a siege of Elves,” Bard said. Bilbo caught Thorin looked out of the corner of his eyes. The captain nodded to Balin who hurried off. The only word he could discern was _Ro_ _äc_. “Thranduil is prepared to kill you for what is rightfully his.”

“He would not last in a single battle,” Thorin countered.

“We don’t need to know if that’s true,” Bard said. Thorin snorted. “He’s here for more than just precious jewels.”

“What could have possibly dragged the great _Elvenking_ from his halls of feasts?”

“Bilbo Baggins did.” The company sucked in a breath as one. Bofur’s grip tightened on Bilbo’s shoulders. “A Government ship is waiting to take to Bilbo back just outside the Crown of Durin.”

“No ship will be taking anyone anywhere,” Thorin shouted furiously. “I found him, he is mine!” Bilbo’s head whipped around. The fury burned through his face and in a fit of rage he ripped the ring off.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” he snapped. Thorin whirled around to look at him, his eyes glinting maliciously. Dwalin slowly sidled himself sideways to form a barrier between the two. “Don’t you ever say that again, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Master Baggins,” Thorin said, a sneer on his face. “You have finally stepped into the light. Tell me, where has my crew been hiding you?”

“Away from you,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms. The sneer turned to a frown. “You’re mad, Thorin. You’re not the same Dwarf I met all those months ago.”

“Bilbo,” Bard called up from his place near the ground. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better,” Bilbo shouted back down, not taking his eyes off Thorin for a second. The Dwarf captain looked between the two speakers.

“You should not speak of things you do not understand,” Thorin warned as he took a step forward. Bilbo reached into his back pocket where he’d stuffed the Taser. “I am doing this for your own good.” The captain shoved past Dwalin to tower over the Hobbit.

“I think I know what’s for my own good,” Bilbo said, and then plunged the Taser into Thorin’s chest, jamming the button down. Thorin spasmed, falling to the floor in a twitching mess. Bilbo took the chance to flee down the hall. Bofur and Nori followed hot on his heels while Thorin’s howls echoed off the walls.

O.o.O

Bard watched the events unfold with horrified eyes. Thorin stepped up to Bilbo in a threatening manner before suddenly dropping to the ground. The Hobbit disappeared in a second with Bofur and Nori following him. Mere moments after these horrors occurred, a small, silver bird flashed out of the mountain. It gave a throaty croak and headed east toward the Suns.

Swinging his board around, Bard leaned forward. The hoverboards, more commonly known as _Rafters_ , were used among the wealthier on Lake-Town to travel through the halls. With no more wealth to call their own, the _Rafters_ were open to anyone who wished to use one. That included Bard. The _Rafter_ sped across the uneven ground. A strip of sensors along the bottom scanned the ground and shifted it upward and downward in accordance with the terrain. The trip took all of fourteen minutes to reach Dale once more. There Thranduil waited for him.

“Well?” the Elvenking asked. “What does the great Thorin Oakenshield have to say?” Bard spared an exasperated glance for the King. Both Thranduil and Thorin would hate to say it, but they were exactly the same.

“He won’t hand over any of the gold,” Bard said, stepping off the _Rafter_. The hoverboard whirred as it turned off and lowered to the ground. “The Dragon Sickness has taken over his mind.”

“I told you it would happen.”

“He’d rather go to war against you than hand any of it over.”

“As I suspected.”

“And he has requested the war happen in the nude as Dwarvish customs declare.”

“I would have . . . wait, _what_?” Bard allowed himself a chuckle before returning to the seriousness of the situation.

“The last bit was a lie,” he admitted. Thranduil glared at him in an almost pout. “But he will wage war against you if you try to take the mountain.”

“What of the _Perian_?”

“I saw him. Thorin’s become strangely obsessed with him,” Bard said with a frown. “It’s like he’s forgotten about the Arkenstone entirely.”

“It is the disorder.”

“But I thought that was for the Arkenstone.”

“Originally it was,” Thranduil said, still haughty over Bard’s joke. “But the disorder could have manifested itself in a new direction. Both you and I, and perhaps several of his crew, have voiced our wishes to have the _Perian_ as our own. Thorin sees this as a threat to what rightfully belongs to him.”

“What do we do?” Bard asked.

“Gather what army you can,” Thranduil said. He turned away from the mountain, striding toward his own camp. “I will give Thorin three days before I attack. Oh, and do tell my son and his friend to quit hiding among your people. I am not a cannibal.” Bard’s eyes narrowed. There was no way this battle could end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for our daily lessons! Here are the races created according to Tolkien:  
> Eru: Elves, Men, and Hobbits (believed to be descended from Men, so not created by Yavanna!)  
> Yavanna: Ents (she wanted to protect her trees from her husband's violent creations so asked Eru to make them for her.)  
> Aule: the Dwarves (created by Aule but given life by a pissed off Eru who decided to spare the Dwarves.)  
> Morgoth: the Orcs (duh!)  
> All creations were given life by Eru, as he was the greatest of them all. The Elves were the first born, which is why Eru got pissed at Aule when he found out what Aule had done. He agreed to give the Dwarves life, but only AFTER the Elves had woken up first.  
> The Arkenstone is rumored to originate from the Silmarils. I found the story while researching.  
> There we go, lessons done. I really hate it when people don't do they're research. T.T Dwarves mature at forty, no seventy-two, and the Hobbits were created by Eru. I suppose it's whatever floats your boat. *sigh*


	54. Extracted and Evicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castor refuses to take me seriously. So therefore, this doesn't count as a real author's note. I think it may have something to do with the fact that I bit her twice. I don't know.

**Extracted and Evicted**

The hunt for the Arkenstone ended. The preparations for war began. Directly after Bard’s threat, Thorin ordered for the old forges to be relit. Ancient swords from the armory were sharpened, broken arrows repaired, and shields cleaned. Bilbo could only watch in horror as the crew of _the Arkenstone_ prepared for war and, quite possibly, death. Thorin ordered every able-bodied soldier to wear armor. This included the entire crew. Even Bilbo found himself re-armed with his own sword, _Sting_ , and dressed in silver. Balin had brought him a coat of mithril rings, telling him Thorin had ordered him to wear it. Bilbo had wondered about the mithril for a short while (so that’s what mithril was!) and then realized he’d look ridiculous wearing the shirt. He put it on anyway.

For three days, Bilbo watched in horror as the preparations continued both inside and outside the mountain. While Thorin armed the unmanned cannons and land mines, Thranduil set up camp. The Elves had brought no ships or unmanned weapons of any kind. When Bilbo asked, Dwlain explained Thranduil had no sort of weapons. The Elves weren’t used to ship-to-ship combat using single-manned ships. They were completely unprepared for this kind of battle. By no means were they unarmed, though. The amount of swords and bows Bilbo could see horrified him. Both sides would lose a great number of casualties if this war happened.

By the end of the third day, Bilbo made up his mind. Now it was only a matter of explaining it to Balin. The Dwarf listened intently when Bilbo told him, nodding at the end.

“I suppose it’s the only way,” Balin said, planting his hands on his hips. He gave Bilbo a meaningful look. “You’d best leave after dark, though. I have no doubt Thorin will be watching the walls until then.”

And so Bilbo waited. The smallest Jewel had hardly risen past the horizon when Bilbo slipped his ring on his finger and made his way toward the parapets. A moment of terror passed when Thorin stormed past him, but otherwise he didn’t run into any problems. Bofur waited for him on the parapets. He clutched a jetpack in his hands.

“Balin told me,” Bofur explained with a sheepish smile. “I thought ya’d get down there easier with this.” He held out the jetpack for Bilbo.

 “I don’t even know how to use one,” Bilbo argued. “I was just going to use a rope.” Bofur snorted.

“Ropes are so old school. Use this.”

“Bofur,” Bilbo groaned, but his friend had already begun to slip the jetpack onto his back. The straps were buckled. They tightened automatically against Bilbo, the small machine humming.

“Right, so ya turn it on like this,” Bofur said. Reaching around Bilbo, he flicked a switch at the bottom of the jetpack. “There’s just one switch, ya can’t get it wron’.” Bilbo glared at him. “As fer flyin’ this thin’, it runs on one level: normal. Cross yer arms ta yer body ta go faster. Tilt sideways either way ta turn. Lean forward ta dive and backward to rise. Easy peasy.”

“Maybe for you,” Bilbo retorted. “We Hobbits aren’t made for flying.”

“Ya do fine in the ship,” Bofur pointed out, earning himself a punch on the arm. “Right, so just kick off the ground and ya’ll start flyin’.”

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to kill me or not.”

“Hammers and stones,” Bofur sang. Bilbo punched him again. “Right, anyway, the jetpack runs on motion. If it sense a sudden drop it’ll kick in.”

“Who thought that was a good idea?” Bilbo asked curiously.

“The inventors. Too many accidents.”

“What kind of accidents.”

“. . . Eh, let’s just say a lot of Dwarves thought that’s how they worked in the first place.”

“Lovely image,” Bilbo said drily. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” Bofur said with a cheeky grin. It softened with the next words he spoke. “I wish ya the best of luck, Bilbo. I really do.” The Dwarf stepped back a few paces.

Bending his legs, Bilbo prepared to jump. The small engine on his back purred, now at full power. The vibrations tingled against his spine. Bilbo kicked off the ground hard. For a split second he thought he would drop back to the stone parapet. A shing rang out just behind his shoulders and suddenly he shot upward. A glance back revealed triangular silver wings, each armed with three miniature turbines. The jetpack carried him in a wide arc until he remembered Bofur’s words and leaned forward. The machine strapped to his back reacted to the smallest movement. Bilbo found he only had to twitch slightly back and forth to even out or else he would do a corkscrew. That was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

Eventually, after several minutes of flying uncomfortably like a bird, Bilbo reached the edges of Dale. He ground his teeth when he realized Bofur had not told him how to land. He spent several minutes puzzling it out before he realized he was floating in midair. The next few minutes were spent testing various ways of flying toward the ground. Bilbo eventually discovered if he slowly dove toward the ground and pulled out at the last minute, he could easily land. Bofur was going to die when he got back.

The jetpack’s wings slid back into the casing and he flicked the power off. The machine hummed quietly against his back. Slipping his ring onto his finger, Bilbo snuck toward the lights of Dale. Up close he could see the city lay in shambles from Smaug’s siege. Many buildings still stood, though several were missing roofs or windows. Crumbling rocks and beams of iron littered streets. Personal ships for small-town use lay abandoned on their sides. A few were still intact.

Bilbo clambered over the graveyard of the town until he reached the heart. Here lay the real life. Candles and lamps flickered in the windows of surviving windows. Families sat outside door, chatting quietly to one another, children raced through the streets laughing as they played tag, and Elves perched themselves on rooftops for guarding purposes. Bilbo jumped out of the way of passing children. It would do no good for one of them to run into him and alert the guards. It would defeat his purpose of coming here.

Wandering slowly through the streets led Bilbo toward a more sophisticated looking part of town. Here no children ran back and forth together. Men and Elves alike stood alert with their weapons at the ready. A large tent stood in the center of the courtyard, the door flaps fluttered slowly in the wind. Bilbo crept forward. His ears pricked up at a familiar deep voice.

“You can no longer sit idle while the universe spins around you!” Bilbo grinned. He knew that voice from childhood.

“Mithrandir, there is no reason for me to call off this attack.” Thranduil’s voice carried through the tent next and Bilbo frowned. Slowly, minding the ground beneath his feet, he tiptoed into the tent. Thranduil sat at a small table while Gandalf stood before him, a staff clutched in hand. Bilbo frowned at it. This wasn’t the usual staff his friend carried around. Bard stood in the corner, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’ve every right to call off the attack,” Gandalf argued, gesturing wildly. Bilbo ducked to avoid being struck by the staff. “If you go through with this war then you’re no better than Thorin Oakenshield.”

“That Dwarf has something of mine and I want it back,” Thranduil snapped. “Would you be able to get it back for me?”

“I might,” Bilbo said. Thranduil tensed and Gandalf whirled around. Even Bard straightened up in surprise. Bilbo slid the ring from his finger, receiving a cry of delight from Bard and a smile from Gandalf.

“Bilbo Baggins,” the Wizard sighed. “Never have I been-.”

“So happy to see a Hobbit in all your life,” Bilbo finished for his friend with a smile. “You say that every time we meet.”

“Not every time,” Gandalf said slyly. Bilbo stuck his tongue out at the Wizard in a childish manner.

“Right, good morning to you too,” he said before turning to a shocked Thranduil. “Now, about your treasure. I might be able to get it back for you.”

“And why should I trust you?” Thranduil asked. “You helped the Dwarves escape from my planet.”

“You were going to turn us into the Government.”

“Who says I am not still going to do that?”

“I’m really starting to think you’re just pompous.”

“Bilbo!” Gandalf exclaimed. “Now is not the time for you to be starting arguments.”

“I’m the one starting anything!” Bilbo countered.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said in a warning tone, and Bilbo sighed in defeat. “Good, now what’s this plan you have?”

“Thorin is obsessed with the Arkenstone,” Bilbo said. He missed the way Thranduil and Bard looked to each other. Stepping forward, he reached deep into his shirt and drew out the cloth-wrapped package. He set it on the table. “Which I happen to have.” The cloth corners fell open to reveal a shimmering stone.

“How did you get this?” Bard asked, stepping forward slowly. A look of awe graced his face. Thranduil leaned forward in his seat, interest in his eyes.

“I found it when I was talking to Smaug,” Bilbo explained. “I’m giving it to you. You can ransom it back for your fair shares of the treasure.” Gandalf patted him gently on the shoulder. Bard, on the other hand, shot him a confused look.

“Does Thorin know about this?” the Man asked.

“No,” Bilbo said. Thranduil sat back in his chair with a smirk. “But I’m willing to be he won’t be too happy when he finds out what I did.”

“Then why do it?” Thranduil asked. Bilbo looked to him and suddenly the desire to kick the king soared through him.

“Because Thorin is my friend,” Bilbo said through clenched teeth. The hand on his shoulder tightened slowly. “And I can’t stand seeing him kill himself like this. I’m trying to help him.”

“What makes you think this will work?” Thranduil asked, gesturing toward the stone. “Oakenshield is mad enough that his obsession has begun to change, or have you not noticed?” Bilbo’s fingers curled into his fist. His eyes flicked down to the stone then back up to Thranduil.

“I don’t know if it will work. But I’ve learned a few things about Dwarves since I’ve started traveling with them. They’re stubborn, loyal to a fault, and they never leave a man to die on a field.”

“Charming,” Thranduil said. “But hardly worth saving.” That did it. Faster than anyone could move, Bilbo snatched up the Arkenstone and threw it at Thranduil. The stone struck the Elvenking straight between the eyes. His chair tipped backward and he fell to the floor in a swearing heap. Bilbo smirked victoriously to himself.

“Never anger a Hobbit,” Gandalf said a surprise Bard. “Particularly if they have a weapon within reach.”

“Watch it, Gandalf. I still have a sword and a Taser.” Gandalf just chuckled. Bard leaned down to pick up the Arkenstone from the ground. He weighed in the palm of his hand.

“You would really give this up for Thorin?” he asked. “You do realize his obsession has turned to you lately?”

“I know,” Bilbo said, smiling sadly. “But I have to try something, or I’ll never forgive myself.” Bard nodded in a knowing manner. “I-I’d better get back, or Bofur’s going to start worrying about me.”

“I will escort you to the edge of town,” Gandalf said. Bilbo followed his friend from the tent, leaving a cursing Elvish king in their wake. Several tents down, he spotted Tauriel and Legolas. The desire to call out to them filled him but he crushed it. It would only hurt him more when he returned.

“What were you talking about with Thranduil when I came in?” Bilbo asked Gandalf curiously. The Wizard glanced down at him before looking away. “I’m not stupid, Gandalf, I heard you. You were telling Thranduil he couldn’t avoid this anymore. What were you talking about? Where did you go?”

“I went to Dol Guldur,” Gandalf said. “A planet far away in the Angmar Mountains. There I found the Necromancer.”

“Who’s that?” Bilbo asked in confusion. Gandalf sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“He turned out to be Sauron,” Gandalf said. Bilbo blanched, faltering in his steps. Gandalf turned to face him, a gentle smile on his face. “Sauron managed to save his memory in an AI. The Lady Galadriel vanquished him and I returned here as quickly as I could.”

“Does this have anything to do with the Government doing experiments on me?”

“Who told you about that?” Gandalf demanded.

“Bofur,” Bilbo said. “He heard it from Kili who heard it from Tauriel who hacked into the Government’s database.” Gandalf snorted at that. “Why didn’t you tell me, Gandalf?”

“Bilbo, you must understand,” Gandalf said slowly. “Your mother and I worked hard to protect you once I rescued you from the experiment. We implanted a key phrase into your mind.”

“Twitch my ears and wiggle my toes,” Bilbo said softly.

“Exactly. We ingrained the phrase into your mind as a sort of safe word. Your brain took that word to hold a different meaning from all other words. After the incident of the Fell Winter I just . . . I didn’t have the heart to tell you. You were such a tortured child, far from healing. I kept telling myself to wait another day until it was too late. I truly am sorry.”

“I suppose I would have done the same thing,” Bilbo sighed. “Thank you for telling me the truth now.” Gandalf smiled at him softly. “You don’t want me to go in there, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I could just put my ring on and disappear. You’d never see me go.”

“But I would blame myself for eternity.”

“I have to do this, Gandalf,” Bilbo urged. “Thorin’s still in there. I know he is.”

“I understand,” Gandalf said. “You’d better hurry back now before Thorin discovers you’re missing.” Bilbo nodded curtly then turned and fled out of the city. He could only hope Bofur was still waiting for him on the parapets.

O.o.O

Balin came for Bilbo the next morning. He shook the exhausted Hobbit awake gently. Bilbo yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he tried to get his brain and body going.

“Did everything go alright last night?” Balin asked urgently. Bilbo nodded, muttering nonsense under his breath. “Good. Bard and Thranduil have come to speak with Thorin. He wants us all at the gate now.”

“Even me?” Bilbo asked. Going back to sleep sounded like a better idea.

“Aye,” Balin said. “And no wearing your ring. Dwalin and Gloin will protect you.”

“Hammers and stones?” Bilbo asked, his eyes falling closed. Balin shook his awake once more.

“Hammers and stones. Now let’s go.” Groaning, Bilbo shoved himself up from his nest of furs. Dwalin had found them for him the night after their arrival. It made sleeping on a stone floor a bit more bearable.

Bilbo and Balin wound their way through the many stairwells of the treasury room. The Dwarves had decided to constantly move Bilbo’s resting room to throw Thorin off at all times. His most recent room had been on the lowest levels of the mountain. The climb to the very top was exhausting. By the time they’d reached the parapets, Bilbo really wished Thorin had bothered to get the old elevators going. They would have been a blessing.

It was very much the same as the meeting three days ago. The entire crew had already gathered on the parapets. Fili and Kili flanked their uncle who now wore a crown along with a heavy coat over his armor. Bilbo thought he looked ridiculous. The coat and armor combined would weigh him down in battle. From between his brother and cousin, Bofur gave Bilbo a thumbs up. Dwalin positioned himself directly between Thorin and Bilbo, crossing his arms. Bilbo stepped up to the parapets and looked down.

Bard stood on his hoverboard once more. Beside him, seated on a re-commissioned one-manned ship sat Thranduil. Behind them, lined in perfect rows, was the Elvish army. They stood with backs straight and bows at their sides; all gold and green, glinting in the sun. Bilbo swallowed hard. There was no way Thorin and his crew could survive this.

“Good morning, Thorin,” Bard called up. He gave a slight nod to Bilbo who returned it. Thranduil just sent him a filthy nod. “It’s good to see you’re still alive.”

“And we will survive for longer,” Thorin retorted hotly. Bard frowned while Thranduil smirked. Several Elves shifted in their places before falling still. These weren’t mere guards, Bilbo realized. These were strictly-trained soldiers ready for battle.

“I highly doubt that,” Thranduil said, hardly loud enough for anyone to actually hear. Oin glowered at the Elf, as though taking a personal insult. “I have an entire military at my beck and call. What do you have, Thorin Oakenshield? Thirteen crew members? What an unlucky number.”

“We have fourteen,” Thorin said. “You are forgetting Master Baggins. And as I recall, fourteen is a lucky number.”

“Tut tut, Thorin. Have you forgotten what Bilbo Baggins himself said to you? He belongs to no one. The _Perian_ has every right to leave that mountain if he wishes and join us.” Bilbo swallowed hard, sweat slicking his palms. He could feel Thorin’s furious glare on his cheek. “Send him down while we negotiate.”

“There is no reason for us to negotiate,” Thorin roared furiously, turning his attention back to the Elves and Man. From far away Bilbo could see the nervous tension in Bard’s shoulder. “What could you possibly have to negotiate with?”

“We have this,” Bard said. Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew the Arkenstone. It shone in the Suns’ light, a beautiful stone among a ruined city. A collective gasp ran through the crew on the parapets. Only Balin remained unfazed.

“The Arkenstone,” Kili said in a hushed voice. “How’d they get a hold of it?”

“It can’t be real,” Fili said, just as awed as his brother. “They must’ve made a fake. They’re trying to trick.”

“It’s quite real,” Bard said. “I assure you. Send down Bilbo and we can begin trading.” Bilbo’s heart sunk at the words.

“You are lying,” Thorin said. “That Arkenstone is by no means real. It lies somewhere in the halls behind me.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bilbo spoke up. Dwalin tensed before him as Thorin whirled to glare at the Hobbit of his crew. “I gave it to them. I found the Arkenstone when I was talking to Smaug.”

“You gave it to them?” Thorin asked in a hushed voice. For a moment Bilbo swore he saw lucidity in those blue eyes. The black rings faded away to nothingness in the irises. “Why?”

“It was driving you mad, Thorin,” Bilbo said, holding his hands out in a pleading gesture. “You don’t understand. It was eating you alive.”

“You gave them the Arkenstone,” Thorin said. His eyes slid sideways to glance at Bard and Thranduil. “And yet they want nothing to do with it.” He turned his gaze back to Bilbo. “They want you.” The black rings returned in a snap, nearly covering the blue irises entirely.

The next few seconds were a blur. Bilbo’s heart stopped beating for a split second. His stomach twisted and the blood pounded in his ears. Thorin threw himself at the same time Dwalin did just the same thing. The taller Dwarf caught his captain in the chest with a solid arm, holding the older Dwarf back.

“Run!” Dwalin roared at Bilbo. “Run!”

Bilbo didn’t dare to hesitate. Spinning on his heel, he raced toward the doors. Thorin’s roars echoed after him. The madness in them was clear. Bilbo tore down the stairwells of the treasury room. Several times he slipped on gold coins and once he nearly fell over the edge. Where he was going, he didn’t know. He just needed to get away from Thorin. The captain of _the Arkenstone_ would kill him for sure.

On the third levels, a body collided with Bilbo’s. It sent them both tumbling down stairwells to a landing. Bilbo skidded several feet until his head hung over the edge. A strong hand grabbed his calf and dragged him away from it, toward certain doom. Thorin towered over him, his knees straddling Bilbo’s chest.

“Why bother running, Master Baggins?” the Dwarf grunted. Bilbo’s hand flew to his pocket, the gesture concealed by Thorin’s left knee. “I am only trying to protect what is rightfully mine.”

“I’m not yours,” Bilbo choked out. “I already told you that.” Jamming the button down, he swung up at Thorin’s stomach. The Dwarf caught his hand in a strong grip. The Taser clicked, only centimeters away from its goal. Thorin smirked at him.

“Not this time. I have learned my lesson about dealing with you. The others tried to keep you from me. Those blasted Elves, that treacherous Man. They want you for themselves.”

“That’s a lie,” Bilbo managed to croak out. “No one wants me for anything. I’m just a Hobbit from the Shire System.”

“Oh but you are so much more, Master Baggins,” Thorin said, caressing Bilbo’s cheek with his free hand. His eyes held a haunting pleased looked in them. It was the same look he wore when he stared at the treasure below him. “Do you not see? The Government wants you? The Elves? The Men? You are worth more than all the treasure in this kingdom.”

“You’re crazy!” Bilbo shouted at the same time a roar echoed through the hall. Dwalin threw himself down the stairs and tackled Thorin. The two fell over the edge of the landing. Thorin howled furiously, losing his grip on Bilbo’s leg. Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo bolted back the way he came. He’d made it to the fourth landing when an arm wrapped around his waist. It dragged him back against a chest.

“Let me go!” he howled, thrashing in the grip. “I’m not some treasure!”

“Relax,” grunted a familiar voice, and Bilbo obeyed immediately. He found himself thrown over Nori’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes. “Bofur’s got a jetpack for you. You’re going back to Thranduil and Bard. Balin told us what happened.” The thief raced up the stairs on stealthy feet. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

“I had to,” Bilbo said through tears. “Thorin’s my friend. I had to try to save him.”

“A Dwarf through and through,” Nori chuckled. Bilbo shuddered when Thorin’s roars rang through the halls. It made his ears twitch in agony. “Dwalin’s going to pay for that one.”

“I hope not too much,” Bilbo whispered. Nori didn’t answer. He continued their sprint up the stairs until they had reached the parapets once more.

“Brin’ him here,” Bofur said the moment they stepped out into the sunshine. Nori hurried to his friend and lowered Bilbo to the ground. Bilbo raised his arm in silent obedience, allowing Bofur to slip the jetpack on him.

“Ears and toes ya won’t do anythin’ rash?” Bofur asked with an attempted smile. Bilbo gave him his own watery one.

“Hammers and stones you’ll be safe?”

“Promise.”

“Then so do I,” Bilbo said. Thorin’s shouts reached his ears.

“Go!” Bofur said, shoving him toward the edge. “Go!” Bilbo didn’t bother with jumping this time. He flicked the jetpack on and threw himself over the edge of the wall in one clean move. The wings ejected, the turbines spun, and he was jerked upward with the machine.

“Traitors!” Thorin howled. “You betrayed me!” Bilbo ignored the screams and tilted himself downward toward Bard and Thranduil. The Elf and Man waited with wide eyes and baited breath. Already Gandalf had started shoving his way through the ranks of Elves.

“Bilbo Baggins, you get down here!” he shouted. “You know better than to fly a jetpack!” Bilbo couldn’t stop the wry smile from reaching his lips. Pulling up from the dive at the last minute, he landed easily and flicked the jetpack off.

“You give me back my Hobbit!” Thorin roared from the parapets. Bilbo turned to the see the Dwarf captain leaning over the edge. Dwalin was nowhere to be seen. “He is mine!”

“You are being a fool, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf called back. “You can’t possibly win a battle against Thranduil and his men. What will you have: peace or war?” His words echoed through the clearing. Bilbo held his breath, waiting in silence for the answer. No one spoke for several long minutes.

Something silver flashed through the sky. It twittered this way and that over the army of Elves, making its way toward the Lonely Mountain. When it passed overhead, Bilbo heard a faint croak sounding strangely like _Ro_ _äc_. He pondered the meaning for a short while, watching as the silver object flew straight toward Thorin. It paused beside him and seemed to whisper in his ear. Thorin turned to the gathered army with a victorious smirk.

“I will have war,” he said.

As the third Jewel of the morning rose past the horizon, a horn sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought. I have class and work tomorrow, so I'll update if I can. Sorry for the cliffhanger and don't bite each other, it's immature. *Chomp* Ow!


	55. Arguments and Agreements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are on a role, flying through the Battle of the Five Armies. Just wait until the real drama starts! >:D This is going to be fun! Please forgive all mistranslations, I don't know Sindarin or Khuzdul as well as I'd like. Per usual, I'm following the bare bones of the movie and book. I think it makes the story more interesting.

**Arguments and Agreements**

“Oh, wonderful,” Gandalf muttered. Bilbo whipped around to look at his friend. The Wizard had his eyes trained on the sky. His fingers wrapped tightly around the staff.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo said. “What is it?”

“It’s Lord Dain Ironfoot of the Iron Hills,” Gandalf told him. The Wizard began to make his way through the crowd of Elves. Bilbo followed after, careful to keep hot on the Wizard’s tail. Elves moved aside for them, twirling back into place.

“It that a bad thing?” Bilbo asked. A yelp escaped his throat when hands wrapped around his waist and lifted him up. Legolas perched him on his own shoulders. Tauriel stood grimly beside her friend, her bow at the ready.

“See for yourself,” Legolas said, his hands holding Bilbo’s knees. Weaving his fingers through Legolas’ hair, Bilbo turned his gaze upward to the sky.

Backlit the by the light of the third Jewel, they descended in rows of fifty and ranks of ten. Five hundred soldiers in all, headed by a single figure on a single-manned ships. Each Dwarf rode his own open-air shuttle. The ships reminded Bilbo of Twenty-first century water-skis he had seen in pictures. The only difference was the high windshield of the ships that stopped at head-level and the curling horn-like structures on each side of the ship. The ships made a terrific grating sound that filled the skies.

“ _Battle Rams_ ,” Legolas told Bilbo, continuing to move after Gandalf. They finally reached the end of the Elves’ army and stepped out into the clearing. The army of Dwarves continued to descend.

“What are those horns on the side?” Bilbo asked worriedly. Tauriel reached up and lifted him off Legolas’ shoulders, lowering him to the ground.

“They’re shield generators,” Gandalf said without turning around. “ _Battle Rams_ are made for spending a very small amount of time in space. It allows the Dwarves to send out armies without having to move their Battle Stations into the war zone.”

“They act as ramming tools at the same time,” Tauriel said. “You see the way they are raised up over the Dwarves’ head?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“The shield generators can be lowered over the hull to ram enemies.”

“That’s not good,” Bilbo said, turning his eyes back to the Dwarves. Now he could see the danger of the shield generators. They were clearly made of iron laced with steel components and covered in a silver-coating for protection. While the rest of the _Battle Ram_ was geometrically shaped, with a pointed hull and layered sheeting much like armor, the shield generators were curved perfectly into an arc.

“The Dwarves once had the finest military in all the Systems,” Gandalf said. “But after the Battle of Azanulbizar they lost that title.”

“Mithrandir,” Thranduil called as he rounded the corner of his army. The soldiers turned with their King until each faced the oncoming army of Dwarves. Bard followed the Elvenking, leaning forward on his _Rafter_. “How many are there?” Thranduil asked, pulling his ship to a stop.

“Five hundred, I’d say,” Gandalf told the Elf.

“A small military,” Thranduil commented. The army of Dwarves had almost reached them now, lowering to a level of twenty feet. Bilbo looked back and forth between the armies. Already his brain was crunching the numbers and strength of weapon ability, spitting out results of the war. They didn’t look good for either side.

“And still formidable,” Gandalf said, and Thranduil snorted. Bard remained silent as he watched the Dwarves bring their _Battle Rams_ to a stop. The head Dwarf, a stocky male with a Mohawk helmet, steered his ship forward.

“Good mornin’,” he said cheerfully. Thranduil sniffed haughtily while Bard nodded in the Dwarf’s direction. “And how are we all doin’ on this fine mornin’?” Bilbo had a feeling the question was rhetorical. The Dwarf, Dain Ironfoot, spoke in a throaty voice much like Dwalin’s or Gloin’s.

“Good morning, Lord Dain,” Gandalf said pleasantly. “What brings you to Erebor on this fine day?” Bilbo shot him an exasperated look. It was just like the Wizard to downsize a situation.

“Tharkun,” Dain roared in greeting, coming to a stop at Gandalf’s level. “How great ta see you. I’ll tell you why I’m here. My cousin sent me a message tellin’ me to come prepared for war.”

“Cousin?” Bilbo repeated. He looked up at Gandalf. “Thorin’s his cousin?”

“Yes,” Gandalf said grievously. “But I’ve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two.”

“Great,” Bilbo muttered to himself. “Just great.” Thankfully, the well-known hot-headed Dwarf lord chose to brush aside this comment.

“So tell me, Tharkun,” Dain continued. “Will you allow these pointy-eared fairies to stand in my way?” Thranduil made a choked sound at the word _faeries_.

“I’ve tried to convince Lord Thranduil to stand aside,” Gandalf told Dain. “But he continues to insist on war. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

“Like the fact he has chosen to stand between me and my kin,” Dain said. Back on the parapets, a few of the Dwarves called out to Dain. Their words were lost in the distance, stolen away by the wind. “If he doesn’t step aside, I’ll blow him from the face of this moon.”

“Doubtful,” Thranduil sniffed. “I have more soldiers than you do. You would be overtaken before the next dawn.” Bilbo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If you would just listen to us,” Bard tried. “Thorin’s being unreasonable. He’s been taken by the Dragon Sickness.”

“Dragon Sickness,” Dain barked out a laugh. “Don’t preach to me about Dragon Sickness, _Man_.” The word was spat out like a bad cherry. Bard frowned, crossing his arms. “I know the effects of it.”

“Then you know what could happen if you go through with this war,” Bilbo spoke up. He strode forward past Gandalf who spoke his name in a warning tone. Dain’s eyes turned to him, widened, and the Dwarf sat back on his seat.

“You brought your son to war?” he said to Thranduil, a look of disgust on his face. “What kind of father are you?” Thranduil scowled at the Dwarf lord.

“I’m not his son,” Bilbo spoke up before Thranduil could say anything that would start the war. “He his.” He gestured back to Legolas who had a slight flush in his cheeks. “Besides, I’m not even an Elf.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a Hobbit,” Bilbo said. Dain’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And I’m a Fallohide, a Harfoot, and a Stoor to boot. I know what you’re thinking: I don’t know much about war. And you’re right, I don’t. The only fights I’ve ever seen have been in the last few months.”

“Who are you?” Dain asked in confusion.

“My name is Bilbo Baggins, and I am a Child of the Stars. Several months ago Thorin found me on a ship in a mithril box. He rescued me and I’ve been on his ship ever since.” Dain’s eyes flicked toward his cousin then back to Bilbo. “Gandalf convinced Thorin to take back Erebor. It wasn’t so that he could start a war over the Arkenstone or get the Dragon Sickness. Thorin did it to save my System.”

“The Government protects your System,” Dain grunted out.

“That is a lie,” Gandalf spoke up. Bilbo shot him a look that told the Wizard to shut up. Gandalf smiled at him then nodded. “I’m sorry, please continue.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said before turning back to Dain. “We Hobbits used to live throughout all the Systems alongside Men, Dwarves, and even Elves.” With each race mentioned, he turned his sights on the three leaders. Thranduil shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “And when Sauron took power he kidnapped every Hobbit he could find and experimented on us. The Government found us afterward, our race just barely hanging on. They dumped us on a planet where we thrived on our own. They could have just let us be. But they didn’t.

“The Government found out none of the Hobbit races appeared in any histories but Sauron’s own. So they tried to kill us, but we survived. The Government discovered we evolved quicker than Men did and chose to experiment on us. I’m one of those experiments.”

“What proof do you have of this?” Dain asked in a throaty voice.

“I don’t have the memories,” Bilbo said. “My mind’s erased them because they’re too horrible. But you can talk to Gandalf, Tauriel, and anyone from the crew of _the Arkenstone_. They’ll tell you the truth.”

“What does any of this have to do with this war?” Dain demanded, though Bilbo could see the Dwarf lord’s resolve breaking.

“Thorin meant to gather the Khazad armies and save the Shire System,” Bilbo said. “Listen to me. My brain can process information faster than yours can. I’ve compared your armies and weapons. If either of you choose to start this war then you’re both going to have large casualties. It won’t even be worth it.”

“He speaks the truth,” Legolas said. “Your weapons have greater ability, but my father has the greater numbers. Against each other there will be minimal survivors.” Dain chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“You see what I mean?” Bilbo said to the Dwarf Lord and Elvenking. “You’re fighting over a pile of jewels in that mountain. This isn’t some battle for power or freedom, you’re fighting over a bunch of stones. It’s a petty feud.”

“Petty!” Dain squawked. “Now you listen here, Master Baggins!”

“No, you listen!” Bilbo shouted back, jabbing a finger at Dain. “You two are going to fight over those ridiculous jewels and lose too many men. One of you will come out victorious, and probably dead. You really want to know why I think this feud is petty. Because right now hundreds of my kin are dying at the hands of the Government and no one is willing to help us! There’s a Government ship waiting past the Crown of Durin to take me back to the Shire System so they can cut my head open and see what makes my brain tick. So go on, fight your petty war and die for all I care. But I will tell you this one thing before you die: unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing’s going to get better.” Bilbo looked between Dain and Thranduil, the main perpetrators of the feud. “It’s not.” Neither leader spoke for a very long time. They simply stared at Bilbo in mild surprise. A shout rose from the parapets but it went ignored. Finally, Dain spoke.

“Aye, he’s right,” he said with a nod. “I’ve often wondered about what happened to the Harfoots.”

“I myself have lost precious friends and family to the Government,” Thranduil said stiffly. Legolas shot him a confused look the King ignored. “Perhaps you are right, Master Baggins. There are more important things in this universe than gems and gold.”

“What about my people?” Bard argued, speaking up for the first time. Bilbo glared at him. The Man better not ruin all his hard work.

“I’ll talk to my cousin,” Dain said with a sagely nod. “There are laws in our System that states a mentally ill Dwarf cannot rule a kingdom. I’ll see you get your money’s worth.” Bard blinked in surprise but bowed low to the Dwarf lord all the same.

O.o.O

“What is he saying?” Thorin demanded, watching as Bilbo ranted back and forth to Dain and Thranduil. The small figure of the Hobbit waved his arms in exasperation as he spoke. Both Dain and Thranduil remained tense on their ships.

“I can’t hear them,” Oin said. His words went ignored by everyone else.

“I think he’s trying to get them to call off the war,” Kili said, squinting in the light of the Suns. “He’s saying something about jewels.”

“That traitorous Hobbit,” Thorin snarled, turning away from the parapets. “I will see him locked away for this.” The captain stormed away from the wall, disappearing into the treasure hall. Kili and Fili looked to each other before turning to Balin.

“He always was a wise Hobbit,” Balin whispered. “I can only hope he’ll be smart enough to forgive Thorin for this.”

O.o.O

“And my gems?” Thranduil asked Dain. “I paid for the Dwarves of Erebor to mine the gems for me but Thror refused to give them to me in the end.”

“Do you still have the contract?” Dain asked. Thranduil nodded dumbly. “Brin’ it to me. I’ll send men to search through the library to find our side of the contract and to search your treasure room. You can send your own men with to keep an eye on things if you want. If everythin’ matches up then you can have your gems back.”

“Thank you,” Thranduil said in surprise. “I had not expected such . . . willingness and respect from a Dwarf lord.”

“Well I didn’t expect such a kindness from a fairy,” Dain retorted playfully. Standing on his _Battle Ram_ , he bowed low to Bilbo. “Thank you, Master Baggins. You’ve stopped an unnecessary war from happenin’. I’ll see Thorin’s promise through.” Bilbo sighed in relief and nodded gratefully. Gandalf ruffled his hair.

“Well done, Bilbo,” the Wizard said. Both leaders turned to order their armies to stand down. Several of the Dwarves looked relieved at not having to fight such large numbers while the Elves were equally relieved for not having to face such weapons.

“That was a close call,” Tauriel commented.

“It was,” Bilbo agreed. “But it worked out in the end.”

An aura of relief and relaxation spread throughout the field. Chatter rose and fell. Both Dain and Thranduil dismounted their ships to shake hands. Even Bard stepped down. The _Rafter_ lowered to the ground harmlessly. Victory had fallen without a single drop of blood spilled.

Bilbo had just begun to think all his troubles were solved when a great boom echoed through the air. Several more explosions followed, causing Thranduil and Dain to whirl around. The leaders turned their eyes upward to the sky. Bilbo’s ears twitched with the new sound. _Whump, whump, whir . . . Whump, whump, whir . . . Whump, whump, whir_. Slowly, Bilbo turned on the spot. His eyes raised up.

Ships big and small flew into the atmosphere of Erebor. Their hulls were painted red and decorated with something that made Bilbo sick to his stomach. He could hardly make it out, but he thought they looked vaguely like skeletons. Cargo bay doors screeched open. Several small ships screamed out and into the sky. More and more came, flooding the area and almost blocking out the sun. These were no ships like _Battle Rams_ or _Crown Jewels_. These were flat ships made for standing on. A pilot steered the ship while another solider fired arrows from a contraption built on the back. Twin engine shot the ships back and forth at remarkable speeds. These, though, weren’t Men.

“Orcs!” Dain roared, scrambling toward his _Battle Ram_. “ _Du bekar! Du bekar!_ ” The Dwarvish soldiers answered the war cry, swinging their ships around to face the new enemy.

“ _Os nif!_ ” Thranduil called. He mounted his own ship, turning to his men. The soldiers turned expertly on the spot, drawing their bows. “Prepare for battle!”

The Orcs continued to spill from their ships until they filled the sky. Small black machines fluttered out after the many battle ships. They darted back and forth through the sky, narrowly avoiding each other. When two collided, they exploded in midair.

“Out of the frying pan,” Gandalf sighed.

“And into the fire,” Bilbo finished. “Don’t we ever get a break?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, bare bones. I just couldn't see Bilbo standing by and letting something like this happen. Not when his own System is in trouble and his friends could die. I'll try to update after work sometime today!


	56. Nervous and Normalcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not the best title, but I'm tired. Here's your last chapter for the day! The battle begins!

**Nervous and Normalcy**

Gandalf took immediate control of the situation. While Dain prepared himself and his soldiers for war, all the while ignoring his allies, Gandalf called together Bard, Thranduil, Legolas, and Tauriel. Bilbo hovered at the elbow of the Wizard, his heart beating in his throat.

“Bard,” Gandalf ordered. The Man snapped to attention, his nervous eyes flicking in every direction. “Take Legolas and head back to Dale. Leave Percy in charge of the men to protect the city. You take the _Lord of Dale_ with Legolas. Downsize the bow to accept small arrows. Shoot down any Orc flying a _Warg_ you can.”

“Consider it done,” Bard said before giving the Wizard a bow. Whirling around, he leapt onto the _Rafter_ and headed for Dale. Legolas sprinted after the Man, light on his feet.

“Tauriel, take the _Bainrîn_ and fire on the _Gundabad_ ships. Take down any one you can before they land. The Orcs will attack by both air and ground.” Bilbo looked to the Orc ships in confusion even as Tauriel saluted Gandalf before following Legolas and Bard toward Dale.

“And what of me?” Thranduil asked, crossing his arms. Gandalf scowled at the Elvenking.

“How many archers do you have?” the Wizard asked. Bilbo looked between the two Tall-Folk in weary confusion and surprise. He hadn’t expected this kind of attitude out of Gandalf.

“Over half of the men I brought are archers,” Thranduil said unhelpfully. True to his attitude, Gandalf knocked the Elf on the head with his staff. Thranduil made a surprised ‘t-cah!’ sound and touched his forehead gingerly.

“Answer the question, you dratted Elf!”

“Nearly six hundred,” Thranduil said, pouting.

“And there are five hundred Dwarves on _Battle Rams_ ,” Gandalf said with a nod. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “This should work. Get your archers into the sky and take down any Orcs on _Wargs._ The rest of your men will need to remain down here to fight the Orcs on land.”

“How do you expect me to get five hundred archers into the air?” Thranduil demanded. “We Elves do not grow wings, despite the Dwarves calling us faeries. We are not like your Master Baggins here.” Bilbo scowled, wishing dearly for the Arkenstone to throw at the Elvenking again.

“Are you the Elvenking or not? If you can’t find a way then make a way! Now go!” Thranduil shot Gandalf a very offended look before hurrying toward his gathered men. Turning on his heel, Gandalf marched away from the Elves. Bilbo followed as quickly as his small feet could carry him.

“Gandalf,” he said. The Wizard hummed in answer. “Do you really think we can win this?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Gandalf said. He stopped where he stood so abruptly Bilbo ran into him. Leaning around the Wizard, the Hobbit took in the sight of Dain’s armies and the Orcs. Dain had stopped his troops several yards away. They hovered several miles off the ground, their weapons at the ready. The Orcs, though, remained where they were, jeering and shouting at the Dwarves.

“Why don’t they fire?” Bilbo asked the Wizard. “They’ve got the weapons.”

“My guess is they’re waiting for the foot soldiers. They’ll escort the ships down to the ground and protect them at the same time.”

“But why don’t they shoot the Dwarves?”

“Because the _Warg_ is a nearly useless design made by Sauron when he was in power. The Orcs never bothered updating it.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“They fly at only twenty-five miles an hour,” Gandalf explained, pointing his staff at the Orcs. “A _Battle Ram_ can fly at twice those speeds. Their weapon of choice, the bow on the back, is only good at close range. It can fire at ten feet, no more. To add to that, the weapon was positioned on the back of the ship. The Orcs have to be in the middle of their enemy for it to have any effect. It can only shoot from the stern of the ship and ninety degrees either way.”

“How did the Orcs live so long?” Bilbo asked, earning himself a laugh from the Wizard.

“Many scientists have wasted their time on that very same question. Perhaps today we shall find the answer.”

“I hope not. Now, Bilbo, I have a very special job for you.”

“What’s that?” Bilbo asked in confusion. Gandalf turned to face him, leaning on his staff.

“I need you to call the _Eagles_ ,” Gandalf told him. “But only when we need them the most. They are our backup plan if all else fails.”

“Right.” Bilbo nodded. “Call the _Eagles_.”

“Yes, and in the meantime-.”

“Ring on, sword out,” Bilbo said with a wry smile, and Gandalf chuckled.

“Hobbits truly are remarkable. Yes, ring on, sword out. I want you down by mere where it’s safest.”

“I think I can do that,” Bilbo said. A figure shot past him, a blur of green gold. Bilbo blinked once in surprise then blinked again when another figure darted past him. Suddenly the ground all around him was filled with running Elves.

“It looks like Thranduil found a way to get his men into the air,” Gandalf chuckled. Bilbo could only watch as the Elves raced toward the hovering Dwarves.

“What are they even doing?” Bilbo asked.

“It’s an old war tactic. When the Men and Elves allied in the War of the Ring they used it several times. I hope I never see you using it.”

“But I don’t get it.”

“You will see, patience.”

O.o.O

The Orcs were biding their time. Dain didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. It made him nervous. The Orcs were hiding something and he didn’t know what. Dain scanned the ranks of hovering Orcs, his eyes pinpointing the dragging ships and limping Orcs. Those would be the first ones that needed to go.

“Lord Dain,” his lieutenant shouted. Dain turned in his seat, sparing one last glance for the Orcs, to see the Dwarf pointing at something behind their army. “The Elves are coming this way on foot.”

“What does that fairy think he’s doin’?” Dain demanded. Twisting back around on his seat, he jammed a button to open a frequency to Thranduil. The two ships connected a steady, albeit crackly, connection. “Thranduil, you daft fairy, what do you think you’re doin’, sendin’ your men my way?”

“Mithrandir has ordered me to get my archers into the sky,” came Thranduil’s injured reply. “This was the only way I could think of.”

“By sendin’ them runnin’ this way? Are you tryin’ ta blast them from the ground?”

“No, you idiot! I thought you would recognize a war tactic when you saw one. _Bo a on_.” Dain gave the Elf a dumb look. He didn’t speak Sindarin. The Elf sighed, his picture crackling against the screen. “On and up, Dwarf. On and up.”

“On and up,” Dain repeated. Thranduil gave him one terse nod before closing the link. Scratching his beard, Dain thought through all the war tactics he knew from the Elves. On and up . . . it rang a bell. Finally, after several long seconds of thinking, the memory came back to him. Swinging his ship around, he roared to his troops. “Aya ra fu’! Forty-five, throttle reverse, skim, and throttle forward. Aya ra fu’!”

“Aya ra fu’!” came the answering roar from his soldiers.

The last line of Dwarves tilted their helms forty-five degrees upward and threw the gears into reverse. Jamming the throttle down, they shot toward the earth. The stern of their ship had barely collided to the ground when an Elf leapt onto to the back of their ships, straddling the seat where they stood. The Elves drew their bows, keeping their balance as the Dwarves threw the gears and rocketed back up into the air. Just as the first row of Elves boarded, the second row of Dwarves hit the ground then the third, the fourth, the fifth, and so on until every _Battle Ram_ carried both a Dwarf pilot and an Elf archer. Only Dain remained seated alone on his ship.

“Right, let’s see what you’ve got now, pansies,” Dain said as he whirled around.

O.o.O

“Thorin,” Dwalin said from the doorway of the landing on the second floor. “Dain’s armies are gathered. There’s Orcs.”

“That does not matter to us,” Thorin said without looking over his shoulder. He remained facing his treasure trove. “We will stay here where it is safe.”

“Dain’s outnumbered. There’s more Orcs than we can count.”

“He has that filthy pointy-eared Elf on his side. He will be fine.”

“They’re goin’ to war. Are we just supposed to sit by and watch it happen?”

“That is exactly what you will do!” Thorin roared, whirling around. His hand flew to his sword. “I am King here! My word is the law!”

“I never said you weren’t my kin’,” Dwalin argued. Stepping forward, he held out his pleadingly. “You’ve always been my kin’. But not here, not in this mountain. On the ship, you were my kin’.”

“Then you were a fool,” Thorin said sharply. “What is a king without his gold? Nothing. He is useless.”

“No kin’ needs gold,” Dwalin said. “Bilbo’s right. You cannot see what you’ve become.”

“When did the little traitor say that?” Thorin spat out.

“I was talkin’ to him one night. He told me you were blind to your own problem.”

“I have no problems,” Thorin said softly as he turned back to the gold. The precious coins shone a gold light upon him, basking him in their beauty. “Bilbo is a liar.”

“Only when he wants to be,” Dwalin said. “Bilbo’d never lie to hurt anyone. The Dragon Sickness has taken a hold of you. You won’t even go out to defend your own people.”

“Do not speak of things you do not understand.”

“You made a promise, Thorin. You told Bilbo you’d get him back his System.”

“A fool’s promise.”

“A fool’s horde.”

“Leave!” Thorin roared. Dwalin stepped back warily, his own going toward his sword. “Die! See if I care what happens to you! I will not cry over your body when I find you dead on the battlefield.”

“That’s not what you said in the hospital,” Dwalin said softly before leaving the balcony. His king was lost, lost in his own delusions of grandeur.

O.o.O

The Orcs struck with the rising of the fifth Jewel. The Dwarves spotted it coming from a mile away. Their enemy, an innumerable amount of Orcs, soared through the sky on their screeching _Wargs_. The air was rent with the terrible screams of the engines and the cries in black speech. Raising a hand, Dain roared loud and clear.

“ _Ihkirruki!_ ” The battle cry rose up through the soldiers behind him followed by Sindarin cries of _charge!_

As one, the _Battle Rams_ shot forward. Their dual engines released an ear-numbing grating sound that caused several Orcs to balk in surprise. Dain leaned hard on the joystick, leading the attack with a roar. Several Orcs howled to the sky and drove their own ships as quickly as they could. The flat-bodied ships chugged along at a considerably slow pace through the sky, giving the Dwarves the advantage.

Once he was within the four-yard firing range, Dain pummeled the trigger on the right joystick. Shot after shot fired from the dual cannons on the sides of the ship. The bullets were not solid but made of condensed plasma and energy. The electric bullets whistled through the air before striking and Orc ship where they burned anything they touched. The first row of Dwarves behind Dain began firing, splitting around their leader to avoid hitting him. Orcs fell screaming from their _Wargs_. Several ships plummeted from the skies with no pilots to guide them any longer. A few just lingered where they stood before exploding from gas leaks and collisions.

A few Orcs got a bright idea and chose to return the volley of shots. The pilots whirled their ships around in dangerous one-eighties – several archers being lost in the process – to allow their partners to fire. And fire they did, whether they were in range or not. Arrows the size of small spears sailed through the sky. A few struck Dwarves and Elves from their positions. Unlike the _Wargs_ , the un-manned _Battle Rams_ had a purpose. With no pilot to guide them, the ships fell into an emergency autopilot and rocketed forward firing every which way, leaving a wake of destruction in its path. Once out of ammo for the time being, the _Battle Ram_ them proceeded to self-destruct, causing havoc in the enemies’ troops.

Arrows and plasma bullets whistled through the air. Dwarves roared. Orcs howled. Ships screamed and groaned under the pressure. The acrid stench of smoke rose high, filled with the fumes of pollution and gasoline from the _Wargs_. And still Dain pressed on. He shot _Warg_ after _Warg_ out of the sky, even as the Orcs turned their attentions on him. Just behind the flying troops, the Dwarf lord could see the ships filled with infantry descending to the ground.

“Take down the ships!” Dain roared. A concentrated beam of electricity shot past him to strike a _Warg_. The two Orcs fell with the ship howling where it collided with the earth. Black smoke rose up, joining the many heaps of downed already downed ships. The _Bainrîn_ shot past Dain, Tauriel firing more shots off from within. _Girion, Lord of Dale_ had already shot down two Orc pilots with arrows Legolas had gathered in Dale.

“The ships!” Dain repeated in a howl. Form within the _Bainrîn_ , he spotted Tauriel’s salute and then the Elf spun the ship and dove toward the descending ships. A _Warg_ attempted to follow and Dain shot it down.

That was when the bats joined in. Until then, a cloud of mechanical bats had been floating high above between the Orc ships. Somewhere, perhaps in one of the ships, a commander pressed all the buttons and set the bats off. The mechanical creatures shot down like arrows from a bow toward any ship they could find. More often than not the exploded in midair when colliding with one another. Dain narrowly avoided a bat, watching as several of his own Dwarves were thrown from their ships in the explosions. For how small the bats were, they sure packed a wallop.

“Back to the mountain,” Dain roared. “Retreat! Retreat to the mountain!” Several of his men whirled their ships around in midair and made their way back toward the mountain. The air was a jumble of _Wargs_ and _Battle Rams_ as the Dwarves attempted a tactical retreat. Orcs and Dwarves alike were shot from the sky.

Spotting a straggling Elf on the ground, Dain dipped his ship in a dive. The wind whipped at his beard and tugged his clothing, as though begging him to stop. He wouldn’t, though, not if he could help it. On the ground, the Elf seemed to sense what was coming and turned. She grabbed Dain’s outstretched hand and leapt onto the ship. Dain leveled out his ship and made his way toward the Lonely Mountain.

The Orcs chased after the retreating Dwarves and Elves, howling with laughter.

O.o.O

On the ground the battle fared no better. Many of the ships had landed, even with Tauriel’s expert firing skills. Their cargo bay doors fell open to release massive amounts of sword-wielding Orcs.

Bilbo had never been in battle before, and he’d never had any desire to be in one. Alas, finding himself with no other option, he fought as though his life depended on it. And in the current situation, it really did. He swung his sword left and right, jabbing out at any enemy who came too close. Beside him, Gandalf swung both sword and staff. Orcs fell to the ground howling in agony. Invisible to all, Bilbo snuck up behind opponents. At one point he’d nearly been grabbed but Gandalf had been there to strike at the hand clutching blindly for the Hobbit.

Then came Dain’s cry to retreat. Elves and Men on the battlefield fled back toward the Mountain. There was no hope in standing their ground against several thousand Orcs. The _Battle Rams_ had already covered half the distance of the battlefield by the time Bilbo had begun running. Orcs jeered after them, swinging out at stragglers and the injured. There was no other choice. They would lose the battle without help.

Raising his fingers to his lips, Bilbo whistled sharp and loud.

O.o.O

_“Bilbo’s right, you cannot see what you’ve become.”_ The words echoed through Thorin’s head, haunting his waking moments. No one else on his crew had bothered to come talk to him since his outburst with Dwalin. Outside, he could faintly hear explosions and screams.

“Fool,” Thorin muttered. But it was half-hearted. Already something within him had begun to wither and die. A small part of his mind began to question the validity of Dwalin’s words. Maybe, just maybe, the warrior knew what he was talking about.

Pacing his small balcony, Thorin ran the words through his head. He thought back to every confrontation he’d had since finding the Arkenstone. Talking to Bilbo . . . Fighting with Nori . . . threatening Kili . . .

_You had to do it_ , a small voice said in his head. _They won’t listen to you. They never did._ The words made sense to Thorin, perhaps more sense than Dwalin’s. The others didn’t understand his frustration.

_Tink_. Thorin paused in midstride. Slowly, he shifted his right foot against the ground. Something solid scratched against the stone. Curious, Thorin moved his boot to look down. A small gold ring inlaid with a small blue sapphire stone. Bending down, Thorin picked up the ring and raised it to light. It wasn’t from his gold horde, though it was clearly from Erebor. The ring brought back a faint memory of a day on the ship. A day when Bilbo revealed a bit more of himself . . .

.o.

_They had just left Beorn’s house, continuing their journey toward Erebor without Gandalf. Thorin stomped through the dining area of the ship. He had just been talking to Kili to find out how long it would take to get Erebor. He hadn’t like the answer._

_A sob echoed up from the stairs and Thorin faltered in his steps. Cocking his head, he listened carefully. It came again. A heartfelt sob of loss escaping the throat of one he’d come to know so well. Thorin threw himself down the stairs, terror filling his heart. Had Bilbo hurt himself? Was he upset? Had Bofur said something again?_

_Thorin landed hard on the gangway of the cargo bay. His head whipped back and forth but he couldn’t find Bilbo anywhere. The Hobbit wasn’t on his usual roost in the rafters. Thorin opened his mouth to call for his friend when the sob came again. This time it led Thorin down the stairs and around the corner. There, laying in a heap on the floor, Bilbo sobbed into his arms._

_“Bilbo,” Thorin said in relief. Hurrying forward, he knelt beside the Hobbit. He couldn’t see any blood and the Hobbit wasn’t trembling like he did when he was angry. “What is wrong, Bilbo?” Bilbo spoke something muffled into his arms. Gently, Thorin wiggled a hand under Bilbo’s curled body and unraveled the small creature. “I cannot hear you. What happened? Are you hurt?”_

_“N-No,” Bilbo blubbered. The tears flowed freely down his face. His cheeks had grown red with them._

_“Then what is it?” Thorin asked urgently. Bilbo just broke down into fresh sobs. “Please, tell me. Maybe I can help.”_

_“M-My mother’s ring,” Bilbo howled, catching Thorin by surprise. He pointed a shaking finger at the grated floor. “It fell through there and now I can’t get it back.” Thorin looked to the grated tile. His eyes flicked between the screws in each corner. There was the problem. Standing, he marched to an intercom and jammed the button down._

_“Bofur, Bifur,” he barked. “Bring a crowbar and drill to the cargo bay.”_

_“Aye, aye, captain!” Bofur said cheerily without a question. With help on the way, Thorin resumed his comforting of the distraught Bilbo._

_Bofur and Bifur arrived shortly after with the desired tools. They had the grated tile removed in minutes. Bofur himself jumped through the hole in the floor and rooted around until he came up with a small ring in hand. Bilbo gave such a cry of relief that Thorin’s heart broke._

_“Thank you!” Bilbo cried, throwing himself at Bofur and grabbing his friend in a hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”_

_“Yer welcome,” Bofur chuckled. He patted Bilbo on the back until the Hobbit pulled out of the hug. Bilbo took the ring gingerly. “Where’d ya get the rin’?”_

_“It was my mother’s wedding ring,” Bilbo said, holding the piece of jewelry close to his heart. “She didn’t treasure many things, and this was one of them. Gandalf gave it to me on Rivendell. I thought I’d lost months ago at Lobelia Bracegirdle’s birthday party.”_

_“May I see it?” Thorin asked gently. Bilbo hesitated but handed the ring over. Holding it up to the light, Thorin examined it. His eyebrows rose in surprise. “This is an Erebor jewel,” he said. Bilbo made a surprised sound. Thorin turned to look at the Hobbit. “It must have been handed down through the generations.”_

_“I-Is it . . . I mean, does it mean anything to you?” Bilbo asked eagerly. Thorin nodded._

_“We call them_ Gants _, promises. Blue sapphires symbolize promises amongst all the gemstones. The rings are forged for lovers who plan to marry.”_

_“A promise,” Bilbo repeated softly with wide eyes._

_“It is more than just a promise,” Thorin said, handing the ring back to its owner. “It is an oath you never intend to break, no matter the hardships.”_

.o.

Thorin’s hand closed around the small ring. Something within him seemed to snap and the chains fell away. Whirling around, his eyes searched the walls blindly.

“Bilbo,” he whispered. For the first time in days, his mind was clear of all delusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on "The Ships Fly On":  
> Will Bilbo die a humiliating death? Will the Orcs win? Or will Thorin Oakenshield finally wake up and take on his true title as King Under the Mountain?  
> Stay tuned for next year's season!


	57. Realizations and Returning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not trying that joke again. Apparently some of you thought I was seriously going to wait a year before writing the next chapter. Not. Happening. I love this story too much. Besides I have three more to write!
> 
> I REGRET NOTHING!

**Realizations and Returning**

The gold crown sailed through the air like a shooting star before falling with a clatter in a pile of gold and jewels. The coins cascaded down in a small avalanche. Jewels tinkled to the floor over one another, ringing through the halls like a series of bells. In moments the crown was covered in gold coins. It would be forever lost in the treasure horde until someone dug for it. That was just how Thorin wanted it.

Shrugging off the heavy coat, Thorin let it fluttered to the ground. It pooled at his feet in a pile of cotton and fur. The armor came next. Each piece of steel clattered to the ground until the fur and metal mingled together on the stone floor. The chest plate made a great cacophony of sounds as it fell from Thorin’s body. The Dwarf captain kicked it aside and made his way toward the balcony railing. He launched himself over it, falling several feet, and landed deftly on a lower landing. There he straightened up, his spine straight and regal.

“Du bekar!” he roared, throwing his head back. His voice echoed off the walls of the cavern, ringing back in his ears. It sounded great and kingly, nothing at all like his demented voice of obsession. “Du bekar!”

Thror had always been a paranoid king. It had been a side effect of the Dragon Sickness. Worried that someone would plot to steal his treasure horde, Thror had made plans to protect his treasure. If Smaug had not damaged any of those plans, then . . .

Thorin grinned as piles of gold shifted. Grating sounds filled the air. Gold coins and jewels fell clattering to the floor in a shower of twinkling lights. Arising from the gold like reborn phoenixes, _Battle Rams_ came to life. Their engines pounded hard as their systems began to run self-diagnostics. This was what Thorin had been hoping for. His grandfather had prepared the mountain for war, leaving weapons at the ready in the treasure horde. Thorin whispered a prayer of thanks to Mahal. If the ships hadn’t been working or the keyword had failed, then his plan would have gone down the drain in an instant.

“Uncle?” a soft voice asked. Thorin turned on the spot to see his youngest nephew peeking around the corner of the parapets door. It reminded him of when Kili had been younger, waking up from a nightmare. The beardling would creep from his room to poke his nose into his uncle’s for comfort.

“Kili,” Thorin breathed. His nephew stepped out gingerly onto the landing above. He shifted nervously, as though wondering if his uncle was of a sane mind yet. One by one, the rest of the crew stepped into the cavern. They stared at their captain with curious eyes, taking in his crown-less head and armor-free body.

“Kili, I am sorry,” Thorin said, knowing it was not nearly enough for his nephew to forgive him. Kili’s eyes widened. “I had no right to treat you like that. You are of my blood. I should cherish you, not hang you from a wall.”

“Uncle?” Kili breathed in disbelief. Fili stepped up beside his brother, his own eyes the size of plates. Thorin turned to him.

“I hope you two will one day forgive me,” he said. Balin smiled to himself. The old Dwarf planted his hands on his hips, nodding seriously.

“What’s this about, Thorin?” Dwalin asked suspiciously. Thorin turned his attention to his friend.

“I was a fool to obsess over the Arkenstone,” he said, holding out his hands peaceably. “It was wrong of me to treat Bilbo like that. I should never have allowed the treasure to overcome me like that.” A grin spread across Dwalin’s face and he threw his head back, roaring with laughter. Thorin relaxed slightly in his stance. “To each of you, I am sorry. Nori, I am sorry I beat you. You were only trying to help me see right from wrong.”

“Served you right,” Nori muttered. Dori smacked him upside the head. “Ow!”

“Thank you for staying by my side, for protecting Bilbo from me. You did what I could not . . . would not.”

“It was our duty,” Balin said with a nod. “We were only doing what was right.”

“As you always have,” Thorin said. “As I always have.” Stepping back, he opened his arms wide. His eyes moved over each Dwarf of his crew. “I know I have no right to ask this of any of you, but will you follow me one last time?” Grins spread across Gloin and Balin’s faces. Bifur howled to ceiling while Bofur whooped happily. Kili and Fili were already tearing down the stairs toward Thorin. They threw themselves at their uncle who laughed in relief.

“We will follow you to the ends of the universe, laddie,” Balin said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Lead the way.”

O.o.O

They retreated as far as the unmanned canons allowed them. Bilbo’s legs carried him as quickly as he could. Elves surrounded him on all sides. Gandalf had vanished into the battle several minutes earlier, swinging his sword and staff back and forth. Bilbo, now visible from taking his ring off, tripped over a fallen body. An Elf’s hand snapped out and seized the shoulder of his shirt. The warrior dragged him upright and shoved him onward.

The Orcs chased them all the way to the edge of the cannons’ range. They floated high above on _Wargs_ and filled the ground. Their jeers and howls rent the air. Several brandished weapons. _Wargs_ were spun around in midair and arrows were fired at the trapped armies. The Dwarves volleyed the weapons with their own plasma bullets. A few _Battle Rams_ rocketed forward when they were freed of their pilots and disappeared, firing bullets, into the crowd of Orcs. Their explosions echoed through the clearing. Orcs flew through the air and fell to the ground below.

“Hold your ground!” Dain roared over the chaos. Bilbo tightened the grip on his sword and swallowed hard. The Orcs bayed at the sky before advancing forward. The foot soldiers crouched low to the ground, their tongues wagging through the air. Their swords dragged along the ground.

“Mother,” Bilbo whimpered. “Help me.”

An explosion rent the air. The Orcs yelped in surprise and leapt back over each other, knocking other soldiers to the ground. Bilbo whirled around in time to see large chunks of the new wall flying through the air. They sailed in high arcs, landing amongst the Orc bands. Pained howls erupted from the monsters.

The stones had hardly finished their abrupt flights when thirteen figures burst from the mountain. Their _Battle Rams_ shot from the new doorway like arrows from a bow. Starting in two even rows, they spread out in a _V_ formation when they had the space. Thorin led the attack with Fili and Kili at his side. Plasma bullets rained down on the Orcs as the new wave of attacks broke the rank of the Dwarves.

“To the king!” Dain howled at the sky. “To the king!” He steered his own _Battle Ram_ after the King Under the Mountain. The Elf on the back of the ship fired arrows into the crowded Orc ranks. The Orcs jerked their ships back in surprise. They hadn’t been expecting this new wave of attack.

“To the king!” the Elves on the ground echoed. “To the King Under the Mountain!” Thranduil led their attack toward the foot soldiers. They swung their swords and shot their bows. The Orcs fell howling as their comrades leapt forward for more battle.

Bilbo had never felt so exhilarated before. Throwing himself into battle, he swung and parried blows. His sword stung knees and sliced tendons, glowing a brilliant blue. Far away he could see Gandalf’s staff whistling through the air. _Glamdrig_ sang with each stroke, its blade glowing just as blue as Bilbo’s. Nori and Bofur’s ships sailed over the crowds. They threw themselves from the _Battle Rams_ , landing on a _Warg_. The Orcs were thrown overboard with easy strokes of weapons. Bofur seized control of the helm while Nori wrapped his fingers around the bow. He fired arrow after arrow at the other Orcs, all of whom were surprised to find their own ship seized by Dwarves. The abandoned _Battle Rams_ fired shots off at the Orcs before exploding.

A great screeching sound filled the air. Whirling around, Bilbo spotted the familiar mithril streaks diving through the air. They moved at lightning speeds, breaking the sound barrier as they entered the atmosphere. Plasma weapons shot Orcs down from the sky.

“The eagles!” Bilbo shouted, waving his sword. “The eagles are coming! The eagles are coming!” His cry carried through the crowds. The Elves echoed him, the words flying through the armies.

Accompanying the _Eagles_ was a ship Bilbo had never seen before. It swung its way through the Orc ranks, sending the creatures skittering to make way. Several _Wargs_ were blasted from the sky. The hull of the ship cracked open and Beorn leapt out. He shifted in midair, a great bear ripping its way through a _Warg_. He landed hard on the ground and charged the foot soldiers. Elves leapt aside for Beorn.

Bilbo couldn’t believe. They might actually win this battle. He laughed in disbelief, driving sword into an Orc. A clawed hand seized him from behind, whirling around him. The Hobbit found himself horrendously close to an Orc. The beast raised his jagged sword to strike, a leer on his face.

“Bilbo!” came a furious roar. Thorin’s _Battle Ram_ shot down in a dive toward the Hobbit. The Dwarf threw himself from the helm, drawing his sword as he fell. The weapon stabbed through the Orc’s chest. The end poked out the other side and the Orc squealed in pain. It dropped sideways.

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped out. The Dwarf straightened up, dragging his sword from the Orc’s body. “Thorin, the _Eagles_ are here. Everything’s going to be fine.” The King Under the Mountain turned blue eyes on him. Slowly, he advanced on Bilbo. “Thorin, are you alright?” Bilbo asked worriedly. Thorin didn’t answer as he seized a fistful of Bilbo’s hair. The hilt of sword collided hard with Bilbo’s head and the Hobbit saw no more.

O.o.O

Thorin eased the unconscious Hobbit to the ground before taking a defensive stance over his friend’s body. He had never meant for Bilbo to see war. He’d always wanted him to stay innocent like he was meant to be. Hobbits were too gentle of creatures to know cruelty and pain.

Orcs threw themselves as Thorin who cut each down with his sword. _Eagles_ fired plasma at the _Wargs_ , knocking them from the sky. The _Battle Rams_ screamed through the sky, turning their weapons on the foot soldiers below. Beorn roared victoriously as he bowled over more Orcs. Gandalf’s deep voice echoed across the battlefield, mingling with the howls and roars. They were winning.

O.o.O

Kili swung his _Battle Ram_ around in a full circle, firing at the surrounding Orcs. Ships and beasts alike fell from the sky. All the while, Kili whooped as though this was the happiest moment of his life. The adrenaline rushing through his system was enough to keep him high for a week.

“Kili!” came Fili’s shout. “Be careful!”

“Relax, Fili!” Kili laughed. “I’m fine! I’m a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fili demanded, firing his own _Battle Ram_ at the oncoming enemy.

“I’m a leaf on the wind,” Kili repeated. A _Warg_ shot his way and spun around completely. The Orc drew his bow back. Kili’s finger hovered over the trigger. “Watch how I s-.” An arrow pierced Kili through the chest. The pilot froze, his finger hovering over the trigger button. His eyes widened at the strange sensation.

“KILI!” Fili screamed. Kili tipped over the edge of his ship. _Skydiver_ gave a great screech and made a beeline for her pilot. “KILI, NO!” Kili felt himself falling. The sounds of battle seemed to fade away. Black dots swarmed over his vision. The last thing he saw was _Skydiver_ ’s hull folding open to grant him access.

O.o.O

“KILI, NO!” Fili howled at the sky. He watched his brother’s body tumble through the air. _Skydiver_ caught her pilot before he could fall into the scrambling crowds below. Fili fired at Orcs. The amount of _Wargs_ had finally begun to die down with the added weaponry of the _Eagles_. Fury filled Fili’s heart as he fired shot after shot. It hindered his ability to think logically, even as an Orc leapt from a _Warg_ toward his own ship.

The Orc’s feet slipped on the edge of the _Battle Ram_. It howled and grabbed Fili’s leg to keep itself on. Fili tried to kick the monster off, but its grip was too strong. Grinning with wickedly sharp teeth, the Orc reached to its belt. Fili saw a flash of something silver before a jagged knife drove through his thigh. He howled in agony. Releasing one handle, to reach for his own sword. Another knife punctured his chest before he could. The Dwarf fell still in shock. The Orc barked a laugh before throwing itself from the ship. Fili’s hand drifted down toward the knife, wrapping limply around the handle.

“Ow,” he muttered, before falling from the _Battle Ram_.

O.o.O

Thorin saw Kili fall first then Fili. He watched in horror as the _Eagles_ swooped down to catch their pilots. Blood painted their hulls as the panels folded shut. The ships resumed firing.

“FILI!” Thorin roared. “KILI!” An Orc answered his cry with one of its own, swinging its sword hard at Thorin. The Dwarf blocked the blow then swung up. The Orc leapt aside to dodge the weapon. For a split second Thorin could see the mark on the Orc’s shoulder. He’d recognize that skull from anywhere.

“Bolg,” he whispered. The Orc grinned and swung at him with a roar. Each blow was blocked and returned with renewed fury. They became more and more desperate on Thorin’s side until his sword slipped against Bolg’s. Seeing a chance, the Orc jabbed. The tip of his sword stabbed Thorin’s wrist. The Dwarf gasped in pain and lost hold of his sword. It clattered to the ground uselessly. The death blow came next.

Thorin had never thought about how he would die. When Smaug had first come, he’d been convinced he’d die then. He hadn’t. And then he had led the attack on Azanulbizar. He’d survived that too. Orc attacks, disease, starvation . . . Any of them could have killed him while he’d flown on _the Arkenstone._ Instead, he would die in battle.

A warbling scream filled the air. _Ùhùrud_ shot a blast of plasma at Bolg. It struck the Orc, burning his skin as he collapsed to the ground howling. Thorin stumbled backward. The sword fell from his chest and clattered to the ground to join his own. Slowly, he sank to his knees. A cold spot spread across his chest. It froze him to the core.

_Boop boop_? _Ùhùrud_ sank slowly to Thorin’s height. Thorin tried for a smile but his lips could hardly move. Inching forward, the _Eagle_ nudged him gently. When he didn’t move, it did it again. It cooed softly, as though crying.

“Bilbo,” Thorin choked out. _Ùhùrud_ whooped once. From somewhere else on the field, _Sparrow_ screeched through the air to hover over Bilbo. She shot at any enemy who came too close.

With no other reason to stay, Thorin placed a hand on _Ùhùrud_ ’s hull and pushed himself upright. Mithril and glass folded back to allow him access. The ship tilted forward, helping Thorin to slide into the belly of the ship. The panels folded closed after him. Clutching at his chest, Thorin dragged himself onto the seat. All around him the screens shone a brilliant gray color. Black water-shaped spots trickled down the screens.

Leaning forward against the bench’s support, Thorin wrapped his hands around the controls. Silver manacles looped out from them and wrapped almost lovingly around his wrists. The steel harness lowered to lock him in place. _Ùhùrud_ trilled sadly. Thorin gave his ship a soft smile, running his thumb against it.

“Go get them, tiger,” he whispered. His eyes slipped closed and his body fell slack against the bench.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, going to have lunch and then I'm going to come back and write some more. Be right back!


	58. Wayward and Welcomed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, a big blast from the past! Hope it doesn't fry your brain like it did mine!

**Wayward and Welcomed**

_“Yes sir, I’m telling you. Buy this ship, treat ‘er right, and she’ll be with you for the rest of your life.” But Thorin wasn’t listening to the dealer anymore. He’d spotted a familiar ship, quite different than the_ Speeder 180 _he was being shown. “Sir? Sir, have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”_

_“What about that ship?” Thorin asked, pointing towards the_ King’s Jewel _. The dealer scratched his head, his hat tipping backward in the process. He looked between Thorin and the ship._

_“It’s a hunk of junk,” the Man said honestly. “Doesn’t even run no more. Some Dwarves dumped it in my yard one day, to tell you the truth.” Thorin turned appraising eyes back to the_ King’s Jewel. _She was as simple as they came: bulky, a geometric cylinder, and equipped with four shuttles. “One of the shuttles don’t even work.”_

_“How much?” Thorin asked without looking away from the ship._

_“How much what?” the dealer asked._

_“How much for the_ King’s Jewel _?”_

_“Sir, you don’t want that. It’s a piece of junk, like I told you.”_

_“I’ll take it,” Thorin said, and the Man sighed. The two bartered over a price, the Man wanting to charge next to nothing for the ship. Thorin refused each time and offered a reasonable payment until the Man finally gave in. Thorin left the ship-lot with papers in one hand, starter chip in the other, and a feeling of freedom in his heart._

_O.o.O_

_“You bought this piece of junk?” Dwalin asked in surprise as he and Thorin stood before the_ King’s Jewel _. The warrior moved with a soreness of having just been released from the hospital. “I hope you didn’t pay much for it.”_

_“I offered a reasonable price,” Thorin said with a grin. Nothing Dwalin said could ruin his day._

_“So . . . you got it free?” Thorin punched him for that and Dwalin snorted. “Thorin, it’s a piece of junk. Does it even run?”_

_“Not yet,” Thorin said as he strode toward the ship. “But she will. We’ll be free into the skies in no time.”_

_“You don’t even know how to fly!”_

_“Yes I do!”_

_“Alright, so you can fly a ship. You’re just terrible at it.” Thorin shot his friend a withering look. Sighing in resignation, Dwalin followed the older Dwarf onto the ship. They stepped into the vast and empty cargo bay. Their boots echoed off the walls, the sounds bouncing around and filling the air. Dwalin sniffed. “Smells like somethin’ died in here.”_

_“I think something has been living in here,” Thorin admitted. “But we can get a pilot, an engineer, maybe even a cook, and we will be ready to fly.”_

_“Where’re you goin’ to get a pilot to fly this heap of junk?”_

_“Fili and Kili have always wanted to fly.”_

_Dwalin snorted. “Not likely Dis’ll let them go. She’s protective of them.” Thorin shrugged and resumed looking around the cargo bay. Dwalin sighed. “You want me to join, don’t you?”_

_“Aye, you can be first-mate.”_

_“Thorin, if I’m your first-mate, nothing’s goin’ to get done. We’ll spend the entire time arguin’. Ask Balin.”_

_“Do you think your brother would want to come?”_

_“It doesn’t hurt you ask.”_

_“Does this mean you will join?”_

_“Only as a guard,” Dwalin said sternly. “I’m not going to be a cook or an engineer. Just a guard.” Thorin smiled. That was good enough for him._

_O.o.O_

_“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Dwalin,” Balin said as he bustled around the classroom, placing books on desks. Thorin followed his friend around in a pleading manner. “No. I don’t want to fly around in a ship.”_

_“But Dwalin will not be my first-mate,” Thorin argued. “I need someone I can trust by my side.”_

_“Then ask Dis, she’d help you,” Balin said, and Thorin sighed._

_“Dis would overthrow me just so she could be captain, get bored, and force me to be captain again. And then she would do it again and again and again.” Balin chuckled in agreement. “Please, Balin, just for a few months? If you do not like it then you can return to being a school teacher. I promise.” Balin looked around the classroom and planted his hands on his hips. Finally, he turned to Thorin._

_“Three months,” he said. “I will stay three months on that ship. If you don’t convince me in that time to stay on, then I will leave.”_

_“Thank you, Balin,” Thorin said gratefully, clapping his friend’s shoulder._

_O.o.O_

_“Whoa,” Kili said as he stepped into cockpit. His childishly wide eyes rove over every bit of the area. Fili followed his brother, Thorin bringing up the rear. He smiled to see his nephews so excited._

_“You bought a ship,” Fili said in disbelief. Whirling around, he grinned at his uncle. “You bought a giant ship!”_

_“I did,” Thorin said with a single nod. Fili whooped and darted over to a console to start pressing buttons. “I am still trying to find an engineer, but once she runs we will be in the sky where no one can reach us.”_

_“Will you visit a lot?” Kili asked in a quiet voice. Thorin turned to see his nephew resembling a kicked puppy. “Otherwise we’re going to miss you a lot.”_

_“Actually,” Thorin said slowly. Both his nephews turned to face him with excited expressions. “I was wondering if you two wanted to be the pilots. You would have the rooms just in the hallway out there and complete reign of the cockpit.”_

_“You want us to be the pilots?” Fili squealed, unable to hide his excitement. Thorin smiled and nodded. Fili whooped, pumping a fist in the air._

_“Yes! Wo-o-ah!”_ Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. _Thorin and Fili turned just in time to see Kili fall backward down the stairs. No sound came from the youngest Durin until, “I’m okay! I didn’t die!”_

_O.o.O_

_Thorin found him standing outside the ship just staring at it. He’d heard plenty of stories from Dwalin about this particular Dwarf. He was uncontrollable, wild, and unpredictable. And that was at his best. The Dwarf just stared at the ship. He didn’t even seem to notice Thorin watching him._

_“Good afternoon,” Thorin said. The Dwarf snapped around to face hm. For a moment Thorin thought he’d need to call for back-up. The Dwarf looked ready to jump on him. “Sorry, I did not mean to scare you.” The Dwarf looked him up and down then spoke Khuzdul. “Aye, I am the captain of this ship.” More Khuzdul. “No, we do not have any engineers right now. Do you have any experience?” Before the wild-looking Dwarf could answer, a shout rose through the air._

_“Bif, there ya! We’ve been lookin’ all over fer ya!” Bifur the maniacal Dwarf growled as a Dwarf with a hat ran up to him. The new Dwarf paused, panting and resting his hands on his knees. “Sorry about Bifur,” he panted to Thorin. “I hope he wasn’t causin’ ya any trouble.”_

_“None at all,” Thorin assured the Dwarf. “We were just talking about a job offer.” The new Dwarf snapped upright, straightened his hat, and then blinked at Thorin._

_“What job offer?”_

_“Bifur was asking about the engine and I told him we do not have an engineer yet.”_

_“Bif doesn’t know the first thin’ about engines,” the Dwarf said a bit too sharply. Bifur growled and swung out at him. “Ya don’t! Ya can’t keep quittin’ yer jobs and findin’ new ones when ya want ta learn somethin’ new.”_

_“He learns quickly?” Thorin asked curiously. The Dwarf nodded slowly._

_“Aye, he just reads books and messes with stuff to figure out how they work.”_

_“And what about you?” Bifur spoke a proud word in Khuzdul and Thorin’s eyebrows shot up. He turned surprised eyes on the Dwarf before him. “You have an IQ of one hundred thirty-nine?” he asked in disbelief._

_“A bit,” the Dwarf muttered, shifting back and forth on his feet. “Get it from me mam.”_

_“How would you both like jobs as engineers,” Thorin offered. “The ship will not be flying for a few months, so you will have time to teach yourselves about the engine.” Bifur nodded excitedly while the other Dwarf chewed his lip._

_“I don’t know,” he said. “Bombur depends on my work in the mines for money to pay the rent.”_

_“I will pay you double the amount you make in the mines,” Thorin offered. The Dwarf scratched his beard then nodded slowly._

_“Alright, sounds fair. Engineer, ya say?”_

_“Engineer,” Thorin said, offering out his hand. “Thorin Oakenshield, at your service.”_

_“Bofur Broadbeam at yers. Tell ya what, do ya have a cook yet? Because my brother Bombur makes a mean soufflé.”_

_O.o.O_

_Thorin dragged Nori all the way to the ship by the Dwarf’s hair. The thief howled in both fury in pain the entire time. His fists beat a rhythm against Thorin’s shoulder, but the captain of the ship didn’t relent. He’d caught Nori while the thief had been trying to pickpocket him._

_“Let me go!” Nori howled furiously. He tried kicking Thorin and nearly fell backward. Thorin grabbed by the scruff of his neck and dragged him upright before continuing on their way. Eventually, they made it to the ship. Dwalin stood in the cargo bay talking to Bofur. Both Dwarves blinked in surprise when Thorin boarded. Nori was thrown unceremoniously to the floor._

_“You!” Dwalin snarled when he saw who Thorin had brought. Nori’s eyes widened at the sight of Dwalin and he scrambled for the door. Dwalin was on him in a second, pinning the other Dwarf to the floor. “You filthy, thievin’ liar! I should hand you over to the guards!”_

_“Get off!” Nori screeched, kicking out at Dwain. “I didn’t do anything.” Bofur looked between the squabbling Dwarves and Thorin in confusion._

_“He tried to steal from me,” Thorin explained. Making his way to the control panel, he pressed the black button. The cargo bay’s main door slid shut with a whir. “Let him up, Dwalin.” Dwalin snarled and shoved Nori’s face into the floor one more time before he obeyed. The thief leapt to his feet in a second. His eyes darted around the cargo bay. “The doors have been locked. You cannot escape.”_

_“I won’t do it again,” Nori said helplessly. “Thief’s honor.” Dwalin snorted at that._

_“Actually,” Thorin said. “I wanted to talk to you.”_

_“About what?”_

_“A job offer,” Thorin said, and Dwalin yelped in surprise. “I need someone on the inside who can get us jobs. You would make an honest living on the ship.” Nori thought about it for a moment, running his fingers through his finely braided beard._

_“Can I still keep my network?” he asked._

_“That is preferable,” Thorin said. “You would fall under the title of ‘companion’, someone who can make us connections where we need them.”_

_“Alright,” Nori said with a sly smile. “I’ve been getting sick of this moon anyway.”_

_“Thorin,” Dwalin said in a warning voice. “You don’t know what this Dwarf can do. He’ll steal the ship out from under us the first chance we get.”_

_“All he needs is one person to trust him,” Thorin said. “Keep an eye on him if you wish.” Dwalin glared at the thief who had finally seen Bofur. The engineer stared at him in confusion before finally speaking._

_“Don’t I know ya?”_

_O.o.O_

_The door swung open before Thorin had even finished the first knock. He stood on the doorstep dumbly for a moment before straightening up._

_“Mahal dammit, Nori,” the Dwarf before him spat out. “If you came here begging for money again . . .” He trailed off when he saw who it was. “Oh, good evening, Master Oakenshield.”_

_“Dori,” Thorin said with a bow. “How are you doing today?”_

_“Quite well,” Dori said. “I’m very sorry. I thought you were my younger brother. He’s been causing a bit of trouble lately.”_

_“I understand,” Thorin said with a smile. “I have two nephews who are a handful each.”_

_“Better get collars for them, then,” Dori said, and Thorin chuckled. “What can I do for you today, Master Oakenshield?”_

_“Just Thorin, please,” Thorin said. “I was wondering if your youngest brother was home.”_

_“O-Of course,” Dori stuttered before drawing back from the door. “Please come in. Ori, you have a visitor,” he called as Thorin stepped into the house. The door swung shut after him. Dori hurried off to make tea and settled Thorin into the sitting room before bustling off to find his brother._

_Ori crept into the room quietly on Dori’s heels when the older Dwarf finally returned. His watery eyes darted back and forth across the room. Much like Nori’s, Thorin noticed. Dori settled his younger brother on the couch, hovering about to make sure he was comfortable, before he left for the kitchen. Ori and Thorin sat across from each other in silence. Ori shifted nervously._

_“G-Good evening, Master Oakenshield,” the younger Dwarf muttered._

_“Please, call me Thorin,” Thorin said. “Are you Nori’s younger brother?” Ori nodded silently. “I have recently given him a job on my ship as an ambassador.” Ori’s head shot up and he stared at Thorin in disbelief. “He told me you know a thing or two about maps. Is that true?” Ori nodded, his lips pursed. Thorin smiled. “How would you like a job as a navigator, then? You would be paid well and get to see the universe.”_

_“Really?” Ori asked hopefully._

_“He’s not going anywhere!” Dori squawked, bustling out from the kitchen. “Ori, I forbid you from going on that ship.”_

_“I’m almost an adult,” Ori whined._

_“You still have five more years,” Dori said before turning to Thorin and planting his hands on his hips. “I think you’d better leave, Master Oakenshield.”_

_“Your younger brother is the best on the market,” Thorin objected._

_“I don’t know what sort of hogwash Nori has been telling you, but it isn’t true.”_

_“What if you joined the crew as well?” Thorin asked hopefully. “Nori told me your ten-year at the university is almost up. You will be without a job.” Dori chewed his lip nervously. “Is it true you studied anthropology?”_

_“I started out with Hobbits,” Dori muttered. His hands fell from his side. “What kind of job are we talking about?”_

_“Your brother is going to be our ambassador for the black-market,” Thorin said. “We could use someone who could make connections with the . . . more favorable markets as well.” Dori stroked his beard thoughtfully. “You and Ori may share a room if you like.” Ori turned pleading eyes on his older brother who groaned._

_“Alright, but no funny business,” Dori warned. “I won’t be getting into any trouble with the Government.”_

_O.o.O_

_Thorin had never tasted anything so sweet before. He stood in the kitchen of the ship, a spoon still in his mouth. The chocolate seemed to melt on his tongue and down his throat. Bombur stood before him, wringing his hands worriedly. Finally, Thorin pulled the spoon from his mouth._

_“That . . .” he said. “Was delicious.” Bombur lit up happily at the compliment. “When can you start?”_

_O.o.O_

_Oin stood in the center of the medical bay, examining every piece of equipment all the while muttering to himself._

_“You’ll need a better surgery set,” the medic finally said, straightening up. Thorin nodded seriously from his position at the door. “Are you serious about me joining your crew? I won’t allow any horseplay in my medical bay.”_

_“I understand,” Thorin said. “The job offer does not change.”_

_“Strange?” Oin said as he cupped a hand around his ear. “What’s strange?” Thorin sighed to himself and prepared to shout when Bofur slid past him into the bay._

_“Heard him shoutin’,” the engineer muttered. “Thought I’d help.” Marching over to the medic, he whipped out a precision screwdriver and twisted it against the hearing aid. The medic brightened up at once._

_“Ah, there we go,” he said. “That’s better. Now, what were you saying?” Bofur scurried out of the medical bay before anyone could speak to him._

_“I was saying the job offer does not change,” Thorin said. “I would love for you to join my crew.”_

_“I’ve been getting a bit bored at the hospital,” Oin admitted. Pulling a drawer open, he frowned at the contents. “What are these?” he asked as he picked up a small plastic tube. He shook it back and forth._

_“Medical mites, I think Bofur called them,” Thorin said unsurely._

_“Medical mites, ridiculous waste of space,” Oin said as he threw the tube back into the drawer and slammed it shut. “Who does this Bofur think he is?”_

_“A genius,” Thorin admitted. Oin shot him a skeptical look. “He has an IQ of one hundred thirty-nine. He invented them to repair damaged tissue.”_

_“In-vented,” Oin repeated in disbelief. “That’s amazing.”_

_“Aye, he has surprised us all recently with his many inventions. He is working on something right now with the wormhole theory.”_

_“What’s that?”_

_“Um . . . something to do with moving from one place to another through a portal, I think.”_

_“Alright, well so long as Bofur doesn’t break anything in here, I’ll take the job.” The two Dwarves shook on the offer. “Now, have you thought about an accountant yet? No? My brother Gloin would be great for you.”_

_O.o.O_

_“Aye, I’ll do it,” Gloin said before Thorin had even asked the question. The captain blinked in surprise. “My brother told me what was going on when you offered the job. Knew you’d come to ask me one day.”_

_“I have not even finished my offer yet,” Thorin said._

_“Good money, decent food,” Gloin grunted. Tossing a ledger aside, he grabbed a rucksack from under his desk. “I’m sold.”_

_O.o.O_

_The shadow fell across him, blocking the starlight from warming his face. Cracking one eye open, Bilbo found himself staring at the shadow of a tall figure._

_“Good morning,” he said._

_“What do you mean?” the figure said. “Do you wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be a good on?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the Hobbit just isn't the Hobbit if Gandalf doesn't say that ^ .


	59. Sorrow and Snares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, another chapter.

**Sorrow and Snares**

Bilbo woke up just as Bard came looking for him. The Man shot over him, a blur of colors on his _Rafter_. The Hobbit hardly noticed as sat up, gingerly pressing a hand against his temple. His head throbbed at the point where Thorin had hit him. _Thorin!_ Looking around wildly, Bilbo searched for his friend. He sat alone on the battlefield amongst the bodies of Orcs, Elves, and Dwarves. Several yards away, the _Rafter_ turned in a wide arc and made a beeline for him.

“Bilbo!” Bilbo twisted to see Bard the Bowman heading for him. The Man pulled the _Rafter_ to a stop a foot away from the Hobbit. Leaping down, he crossed the distance and knelt beside Bilbo. “Are you alright?” he asked worriedly, his hands hovering over Bilbo’s shoulders. “We couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I think so,” Bilbo said. Pressing a finger gingerly to his head, he winced. “My head hurts. But I think that’s all.” Bard brushed Bilbo’s fingers aside and examined his temple with fatherly care.

“Just a bruise,” the Man said in relief. He patted Bilbo gently on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

“What happened?” Bilbo asked dumbly. “Did we win?”

“Yes,” Bard said with a grievous nod. “The _Eagles_ turned the tide of the battle. They took out more Orcs than any of us in the air did together. Those are quite some ships you have.”

“You can talk to Bofur about those. Bofur! Is he alright?”

“Aye, your friends survived. They’re back at Dale waiting for-.” Bard cut off, biting his lip. Bilbo watched the Man curiously.

“Waiting for what?” Bilbo asked curiously. Bard shook his head, grief in his eyes, and Bilbo’s heart sank. “Bard, what happened? Who’s hurt?”

“Th-Thorin,” Bard said. He stood from the ground. Reaching down, he wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s upper arms and dragged him to his feet. Bilbo swayed where he stood, his mind reeling. Thorin was injured, possibly dying. How could this be? “Bolg, the son of Azog, stabbed Thorin on the battlefield while he was protecting your body. Kili and Fili were shot down by Orcs.”

“Dead?” Bilbo whispered vaguely. All other thoughts came to a shuddering halt. He didn’t care for _Sparrow_ flying lazy circles overhead or the amount of bodies that lay around him. All that mattered were his friends.

“Kili and Fili passed into the Halls of Waiting early this morning,” Bard told Bilbo, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thorin’s just hanging on. He’s asking for you. Do you want to go see him?” Blinking back tears, Bilbo nodded. “Alright. I can take you back to Dale on my _Rafter_.”

Hooking his arms under Bilbo’s armpits, Bard lifted the Hobbit onto his hip. There he propped him with a single strong arm. Bilbo wrapped his arms around the Man’s neck. It only felt natural to do, like breathing or swallowing. Bilbo had never been one to seek comfort before, not since he’d been a young fauntling. But now . . . Bilbo pressed his face into the side of Bard’s neck and sniffled. A hand made soothing circles on his back.

Bard made his way toward the _Rafter_ and stepped onto it. The hoverboard came to life at once, whirring as it lifted off the ground. His arms secured around Bilbo, Bard leaned his weight forward. The hoverboard shot forward at a decent speed. Bilbo turned his head to watch the landscape shoot by in a blur of colors. The wind howled in his ears and ruffled his hair. It almost felt like a mother’s fingers running through her hair. The four suns of the morning shone brightly in the sky. Bilbo’s eyes trailed up to them. It seemed as though they didn’t shine as brightly as they once had. They were mourning the loss of their king.

Bard made it to Dale with Bilbo in under fifteen minutes. The ruined city remained in shambles, though many of the fallen rocks had been brushed aside. Blood covered some of the walls. Bodies of Orcs had been piled outside the city where a bonfire had been built. The survivors of Lake-Town milled around the city, a few laughing while many others wept quietly.

“I found him,” Bard said to someone. Bilbo twisted slightly to see Tauriel and Legolas hurrying their way. Gandalf stood beside Thranduil’s tent with the Elvenking and Dain. Both leaders spoke in hushed whispers and bowed heads.

“Bilbo,” Tauriel breathed. Bard lowered the Hobbit to the ground where he found himself enveloped in a hug by Tauriel. Legolas swept him into his arms the moment his friend released him.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked quietly.

“He is still alive,” Legolas told him. “But just barely. My father has done all he can for him.”

“Do you want to see him?” Tauriel asked. Bilbo nodded. Part of him wanted to scream and run away from the situation while the other just wanted to sit down and cry. Neither option seemed a good idea at the moment. “This way, then,” Tauriel said, placing a guiding hand on Bilbo’s back. She urged him toward Thranduil’s tent.

Thranduil and Dain stepped away from Gandalf as the Elves, Man, and Hobbit approached. Gandalf offered Bilbo a somber smile, clutching his staff in one hand. Stepping up, Thranduil bowed low to Bilbo.

“It was an honor to fight at the side of the King Under the Mountain,” he said. “I knew Thorin when he was younger. He was always a kind, respectful beardling.” Bilbo’s eyes pricked with heated tears. “I have returned _Orcrist_ to its rightful owner. Thorin found it. I can only hope it will serve him in the afterlife as well as it did here.” A tear slipped down Bilbo’s cheek, falling to the ground. Thranduil knelt and wrapped his arms around the Hobbit. “I am sorry for your loss, Bilbo Baggins. I will help in any way I can.” Straightening up, he stepped back to allow Dain to step forward. The Dwarf clapped Bilbo on the shoulder.

“Thorin had the highest respect fer you,” the Dwarf lord said. “A respect that’ll pass down through our family. Stay here in Erebor if you want. I’ll make sure nothin’ touches you . . . And I’ll still uphold Thorin’s end of the bargain. I’ll see your home safe.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo choked out. Dain patted him once on the shoulder then stepped back.

“He is waiting for you,” Gandalf said softly. Reaching out, he pulled aside the tent flap. Bilbo stared at the dark interior of the tent. Did he dare go in there? What would he see? Would Thorin lie mangled on the bed or had someone fixed him up?

 _“Hammers and stones,”_ a voice said in his head. Taking a steadying breath, Bilbo stepped forward through the open door. The tent flap fell closed after him with a gentle swish.

Someone, most likely Tauriel, had hijacked a streetlamp’s floating bulb so that it worked once more. The crystalline structure hovered in the center of the tight, casting an eerie glow over everything. Two cots had been set up on one side of the tent. The bodies underneath were covered in silks hangings. Orcs arrows had been placed beside each one with swords and a bow crossed on top, a testament to the fallen brothers.

A weak cough caught Bilbo’s attention. His eyes snapped around to the other occupant. Thorin laid on the bed, propped up against a pile of pillows. His shirt had been removed. Someone had wrapped his chest in clean white bandages. They were no longer clean, stained with dried blood. Several cuts lacerated the Dwarf’s exhausted face. One hand clutching something against his heart while the other hung off the side of the bed. _Orcrist_ had been placed at his side.

“Bilbo,” Thorin croaked. Unable to find any words to say, Bilbo’s legs carried him forward until he fell to his knees at the Dwarf’s bedside. A choked sob escaped his chest. “You are alive.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo managed to say before the tears took over. He sobbed into the bed sheets, his tears soaking them. A strong hand ran gently through his hair.

“Please, do not cry for me, Bilbo,” Thorin said in an exhausted voice. Lifting his tear-stained face, Bilbo looked to the Dwarf captain, no, king. Thorin was smiling down at him. “I wanted to see you . . . one last time.”

“Why’d you do it, Thorin?” Bilbo asked, his voice cracking. “I-I could have saved you.” Thorin just chuckled then winced. His hand fell away from Bilbo’s hair. It landed softly on the bed beside his height.

“I wanted to save you. You did not need to see the horrors of war.”

“I think I’ve seen w-worse.” Thorin chuckled again. His eyes flicked down to his chest then back to Bilbo.

“I want to apologize,” he said. “I am sorry for what I said and did at the gate. I wish I could take it back.”

“N-No,” Bilbo whispered.

“If more of us valued cheer above gold, this would be a merrier world.”

“No, don’t say stuff like that. Y-You’ll be alright. You have to be.” Bilbo felt like a child again, begging his da to fix his un-moving rabbit.

“I am sorry to have dragged you into such perils. This was not your fight.”

“B-But I’m glad for them,” Bilbo sputtered out, fresh tears forming in his eyes. “It’s more than any Baggins deserves.” Thorin gave him a sad smile before relaxing against the pillows.

“Goodbye, Child of the Stars,” he said. “It was good to see you one last time before . . . before my last goodbye.” His eyes slid shut and the hand on his chest fell limp. The Arkenstone tumbled from his grip, clattering to the floor. Bilbo ignored it as he grabbed at Thorin’s hand.

“Thorin, Thorin, please,” he begged. “Don’t do this. Don’t die.” His sobs sounded loud in the empty tent. His friend, one who had stood by him for so long, was gone. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Captain of _the Arkenstone_ , was dead.

O.o.O

The tent flap burst open and Oin stuck his head through the doorway. Behind him, Thranduil and Bard were protesting to the treatment, saying Bilbo needed private time to say goodbye to his friend. The shouts went unnoticed as Oin bellowed into the tent.

“Thorin, laddie, play time’s over. The Government’s coming!”

Thorin’s eyes snapped open. Sitting up, he swung his legs off the bed. Bilbo, tears running down his face, gave an undignified squawk as Thorin stood. The Dwarf grabbed a shirt and threw it over his chest, not bothering to button it. Sweeping _Orcrist_ up from the floor, he hooked it to his back. The Arkenstone, he stuffed in pocket.

“But . . . how?” Bilbo asked in disbelief.

“Medical mites,” Thorin grunted as he hooked his hands under Bilbo’s armpits. He hefted the shocked Hobbit onto his hip, propping him there with an arm. “Fili, Kili, get up.”

“Finally!” Kili gasped, throwing the silk hanging back. His brother twisted around, his hangings having been tucked in, before he finally rolled off the side of the bed and the ground hard. “I thought I was going to suffocate,” Kili commented. Reaching down, he grabbed his sword and bow. Bilbo grumbled a high note in surprised protest.

“Mph,” Fili said, finally managed to rip the hanging off himself. He grabbed his swords. “Sorry, Bilbo, Thorin wanted to be dramatic.”

“Always has,” Kili said with a wink.

“Always will,” Fili agreed.

“Shut up,” Thorin grunted before making his to the door. Oin held the tent flap open for them to leave. Thranduil looked ready to faint at the sight of three dead Dwarves up and walking. Bard almost did faint, only Dain jabbing him in the thigh stopped it from happening.

“B-But . . . you . . . you _died_ ,” Thranduil protested. “I felt your heart stop beating.”

“The medical mites healed me,” Thorin said. The Elvenking gave him a confused and suspicious look. “Ask Gandalf. Now, we need to get out of here. The Government is coming for Bilbo.”

“The _Eagles_ are gathering with the rest of the crew,” Oin told his captain. “They’ll take us back to _the Arkenstone_.”

“There’s no time for that,” Bard said. Thorin shot the Man a warning look and made to storm away but Thranduil stepped before him.

“He right,” the Elf told the Dwarf king. “You will not make it past the Woodland Realm. The Government will be coming from that way.”

“What do you suggest?” Thorin demanded. “We just turn ourselves in?”

“Now that would be a foolish thing to do,” Gandalf spoke up. A mischievous twinkle sparkled in his eye. “Take one of the Lake-Town ships. There are a few that are still filled with fuel and food.”

“You planned that,” Thorin accused. Gandalf just shrugged but didn’t deny it. “Very well, we take a Lake-Town ship.” Thorin spared a glance for Bard who nodded his approval.”

“You won’t be able to outrun them,” Dain cut in. “No one escapes a Government ship.” Bilbo tensed in Thorin’s arms. Thorin ran a comforting arm up the Hobbit’s back.

“Perhaps,” Gandalf agreed. “It would give you a perfect chance to make your move on the Shire System.”

“They want to cut my head open,” Bilbo said in a soft voice.

“Yes, that is a bit of a dilemma,” Gandalf said. “But I will head back to the Shire System as quickly as I can. Once there I can make sure nothing truly horrible happens to you.” Bilbo gave him a filthy look. “You are not eight years old anymore!”

“I can still act like one.”

“Bilbo!”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo answered in a whined, and the Wizard huffed in annoyance. Bilbo just grinned before it slipped away. “I don’t want to do it.”

“It’s our only hope,” Gandalf said. “Thorin and his crew will rescue you as quickly as they can.” Bilbo looked to Thorin who nodded seriously. The Hobbit looked to each of the people gathered before burrowing his face into Thorin’s neck.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know,” Gandalf said gently. “Now we’ll need your ring, sword, and mithril shirt.”

“I have his sword,” Bard said, holding the small knife up. “I grabbed it when I left.”

Thorin had to place Bilbo on the ground in order for Thranduil to strip away the mithril shirt. Bilbo put his own shirt back on but crossed his arms when Gandalf requested the ring. He steadfastly refused to hand it over himself. Thorin had to rifle around until he found the small trinket. Dain took each of the items, holding them in his arms.

“We’ll keep these safe for you,” Dain told Bilbo seriously. “Godspeed, little friend.” Bilbo puffed up his cheeks at the word ‘little’.

“How long do you need?” Thorin asked Gandalf.

“Make for the Rohan System,” Gandalf told him. “I have a friend there who owes me a debt. Tell Lord Fengel I wish him well, and he will give you aid.”

“I can send out a signal to distort the Government’s radar,” Tauriel offered. “It should give you a few hours head start.” Thorin nodded thankfully to the Elf. Grabbing her friend’s arm, Tauriel dragged Legolas after her toward the _Bainrîn_. Thranduil watched them go with a fond look.

“Now go, Thorin,” Gandalf said. “And may the Valar smile down on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a trap!


	60. Brethren and Baffling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Big edit!* I didn't like how the original ending to the last chapter turned out, so I rewrote it. It ended up being a chapter in itself. Yay!

**Brethren and Baffling**

They left Erebor three days after Durin’s Day on a ship from Lake-Town. It was a simple fishing vessel with two levels. Three bedrooms and the cargo bay occupied the second level while the first level was taken over by the cockpit and engine room. A cupboard located on a staircase between the levels had been stocked with _cram_ and honey, courtesy of Beorn. The fuel tanks were filled and several extra barrels stored in the cargo bay.

The bedrooms were left unoccupied for the time being. Instead, they dragged the mattresses down and made beds for the older Dwarves. Spare blankets were hooked through rails in the ceiling to form hammocks. Bilbo himself was given a mattress to share with Dwalin. He spent countless nights awake unless the warrior sang him to sleep at night. At one point, many of the other crew members joined in to sing lullabies. Bofur was banned after the first night. His lullabies were drinking songs that did nothing to help Bilbo sleep. It only made him hyper and more agitated.

Once Thorin had cleared the Crown of Durin, Fili and Kili took over the helm. Junior and getaway pilot Kili flew first. He rocketed them forward at impossible speeds, running the engines hot, until they had placed several leagues between them and the planet. Tauriel had managed to buy them five hours of time before the Government would out what was happening. A well-thought up plan by Nori had the crew sending their _Eagles_ back to _the Arkenstone_ releasing false heat signatures. That gave them another few hours.

By the time the Government found out the truth, Thorin and his crew were halfway to the borders of the Rohan System. They crossed into the eastern System without a single problem from the Government. Within the first few miles of entering the System, they were apprehended by a _Mearas_.

The Rohirrim were believed to be distant descendants of humans from the first Immigration. For reasons unknown to many of the other races, only a certain population of the Solar System’s planet chose to inhabit the Rohan System. Legend stated they were from what was considered “the Western World”. Their similar cultures and physical traits had merged together to form a paranoid, conservative race who rarely allowed other cultures to enter their own. Rohirric, their language, dated back to the twenty-first century. They were broad and tall men with blond hair and blue eyes. Their generally wore cream pants held up with suspenders, collared shirts, and long brown coats.

With no other choice, Thorin ordered Fili to obey the leader of the Éored. They were directed into a lower holding cell of the _Mearas_ , a large Space Station used to conduct border control and transport large groups of people. A single _Mearas_ could hold one hundred and twenty men and all their ships. The Rohirrim were just as technologically advanced as the Government but in different ways. The government had cut ties with the Rohirrim after the Immigration, leaving the people to evolve on their own. The only connection they had with the outside world were from visitors. Each soldier of Rohan had a ship knows as a _Horse Lord_ that was genetically coded to himself. It could not fly with another unless his rider was killed. Then the ships were wiped of their memory, blessed, and handed down to another rider.

Thorin and his crew found themselves brought before Fengel himself on Edoras. The king welcomed their audience with him suspiciously. Thorin could only stare at the Man as he strode purposefully down the carpet of the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

“Hail, Lord Fengel,” Thorin said in his deep voice, bowing low the King. Behind him, the rest of the crew mimicked him. A man standing at the arm of his king bent down to murmur in his ear. The king raised an eyebrow and spoke a word in Rohirric.

“My Lord bids you welcome,” the servant said. “He begs for your forgiveness, he has never bothered to learn Westron.”

“We have a translator here if that would help him,” Balin offered from Thorin’s left hand. Bilbo made a small noise form his place between Bofur and Nori. The servant relayed the message to his king whose eyes narrowed and he spoke.

“My Lord wants to know who has demanded audience with him.”

“I am Thorin, King Under the Mountain,” Thorin said. His name, at least, caused another raised eyebrow. Fengel spoke to his servant who nodded quickly.

“We received word from Lord Dain that you had died,” the servant said, his hands clasped behind his back. “Dain has taken up your position as King Under the Mountain.” Thorin nodded to himself. It made sense for his cousin to set yet another ruse for the Government. “You could be a traitor trying to hide yourself,” the servant finished for his king.

“No, it’s not,” Bilbo said. Pushing his way through the Dwarves, he bowed low to Fengel. The Rohirric king’s eyes lit up and he leapt from his throne, babbling in Rohirric with his arms spread. Bilbo straightened up, blinking in surprise, and answered in the same tongue.

Thorin watched the conversation pass between Bilbo and the King of Rohan. Fengel spoke in excited tones, his hands flying every which was with the words. Bilbo, on the other hand, spoke with his hands at his sides. His words undulated strangely with the ancient tongue and his own Hobbity habits. It was like watching a tennis match. Both Fengel and Bilbo spoke for time on end before the other would butt in and begin speaking. Finally, after several hours of speaking, Lord Fengel sat back down in his seat. His servant wore a rather frazzled look. Bilbo turned back to the crew, a pleased expression on his face.

“What’d you say?” Bofur demanded from where he had sat down. Many of the Dwarves had chosen to lounge around while the conversation had gone on.

“I told him what happened,” Bilbo said. “He kept trying to talk about pipe-weed and family trees.” Dori shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“Why’d he be so interested in that?” Nori asked.

“I suppose there used to be some Hobbits in this System,” Bilbo said. “Stoors, I think. They crossed through this area and they’ve been telling stories about us ever since.”

“Will he help us?” Thorin asked the Hobbit quietly. Lord Fengel sat in his chair, quivering with excitement, as he watched the exchange.

“Yes, he has agreed to help,” Bilbo said. “I told him what Gandalf said he’s more than happy to help.”

“Excellent,” Kili said, pumping the air.

“There is one condition, though.”

“Aw, of course there is!”

“Kili, hush,” Thorin demanded before turning back to Bilbo. “What is it?”

“We have to stay here for a few weeks,” Bilbo said. “He says no more than a week and a half. He’s going to hide our ship and give us a better one to use the Government can’t track us with.”

“A week and a half is a long time to sit idle,” Balin commented worriedly.

“I told him that. He says he wants the trail to run cold for the Government.”

“He just wants ta talk ta ya,” Bofur muttered. Bifur stomped on his foot. Hard. “Yowch!”

“We will stay,” Thorin said. “If staying is all it will take to get his help, then we will remain here.” Bilbo turned and relayed the information to Fengel. The King shouted joyfully and presumably called for food and drink, for servants brought out cold meat and ale.

The week and a half spent on Edoras were some of the fondest memories the crew had together. Bilbo practiced Rohirric with everyone he met and found himself whisked away to tell stories at the foot of the king. Unable to say his name, the king took to calling him “Underhill”. The name spread through the planet until even the Éored called him by it. The crew found themselves relaxing for the first time in months with no troubles hanging over their heads. Fengel sent his best men to waylay the Government ships and released decoys he called “Crybabies”.

By the end of their stay, Lord Fengel had grown accustomed to the Dwarves in his halls. He offered them a place to stay should they ever pass. And, upon learning about the medical mites infesting their systems, happily proclaimed them forever friends of his house. His sons and grandsons would welcome them whenever they visited.

Fengel gave them a _Rider_ to use. They were sleek ships used mainly for travel and admired for their speed. With nearly three levels to use, it reminded Thorin of home. Each family had their own room to share this time around, unlike the ship of Lake-Town. Fili was hesitant about the controls while Kili couldn’t wait to get his hands on them. Bofur downright refused to touch the engine, leaving the work entirely to Bifur who couldn’t have cared less in the first place. He was under the impression Bofur existed just to get in his way and be a general nuisance. Fengel himself saw them off his planet. He directed them toward the Space Station of Helm’s Deep. It protected a planet Helm Hammerhead himself had rescued from the hands of Orcs. It had been a safe haven ever since.

The flight to Helm’s Deep took less than a week with the _Rider_ ’s speed. With any ship, it could have taken two, maybe even three. The Space Station threatened complete obliteration, an auto-pilot of the Station, until Thorin gave it the passcode given to them by Fengel. The doors opened and they found themselves a place to hide out for the next week. The kitchens were stocked with a bread much like _cram_ , toughened jerky, and ale. At one point Bilbo refused to eat any of the foods, saying they were too tough for his delicate stomach, until Bombur had taken the food and made a stew of it. Bofur’s offer to shove it down Bilbo’s throat didn’t go unnoticed. It landed the Dwarf with jerky and _cram_ in his hair and a furious Hobbit chasing him through the Station.

The message came during their stay on Helm’s Deep. They had been there for over two weeks and hadn’t heard a peep. The occasionally Éored popped in to check on them and bring fresh fruit. Fengel even called from time to time on a secure channel. The Government had fallen for their decoys and didn’t suspect a thing from the king. They still believed him to be following them blindly. The date was mid-December, as Thorin found out when checking a calendar. He’d lost track of the date since leaving Erebor.

 _“Gandalf is prepared,”_ came a soft voice echoing through Thorin’s head. _“Fengel may call of the decoys. Leave the Station as soon as you can.”_ Thorin blinked in surprise as the female voice faded away. Her words continued to echo, etched into his mind. It took him a moment to realize the mystery caller had mentioned Gandalf.

It was with a heavy heart that Thorin went to find his crew. They had assembled in one of the many observation decks to enjoy a dinner of _cram_ , beef jerky, and strawberries. Bofur and Nori were trying to get the bucket of strawberries from Bilbo who had curled around them. Balin looked to Thorin when his captain stepped into the room. At Thorin’s downcast look, the Dwarf fell serious.

“Thorin,” he said. “What is it?” Bofur stopped trying to tickle Bilbo’s soles and looked up. Even Bifur stopped trying to pound Dwalin on the head with his bowl. Thorin looked at his crew, taking in their quiet expressions. His eyes landed on Bilbo last.

“Gandalf is in position,” he said. “Fengel is to call off the decoys and we must leave the Station.” Bilbo uncurled from his position. The bucket of strawberries sat between his crossed legs. Thorin had never seen such a horrified look on the Hobbit’s face before.

“I-I’ll tell Fengel,” Kili muttered, standing from the floor. He hurried from the room before any arguments could break out. The doors hissed shut after him. No spoke for several minutes.

“We’re not goin’ down without a fight,” Dwalin growled. Bilbo swallowed hard, his lower lip trembling. Bofur wrapped his arms comfortingly around the Hobbit. “Those bastards are comin’ down with us.”

“Dori and I’ll load the ship,” Nori offered. Thorin nodded his thanks and the two brothers hurried out after Kili.

“Everythin’ will be alright, Bilbo,” Bofur muttered to his friend. “Those goons won’t know what hit ‘em when we come for you.”

As it turned out, Fengel almost refused to call off the decoys. He’d met Bilbo, seen what kind of person he was, and didn’t want him to get into trouble with the Government. He loved the small creature too much. He wasn’t the first, Thorin noticed. Many people, including Thranduil and Dain, had been softened by his little friend. They’d have to have a heart of stone to ignore Bilbo’s charm. Fengel grudgingly agreed to call of the decoys in the end, on the condition the crew brought Bilbo to visit after they’d rescued him. Fengel would only believe the Hobbit was alright when he saw it for himself.

A _Mearas_ met them just as they were leaving the Station. They’d been ordered by Fengel to see the crew safely to the next planet over. Thorin appreciated the help, but felt it wasn’t helping with their plan. The goal was to get captured by the Government, not shoot them out of the sky with big guns. The Éored, at least, seemed to understand that, even if their king secretly wished they’d disobey Thorin’s orders.

Four days passed and not a single sign of a Government ship arose on their radar. Thorin was ready to pull his hair out. Several members of his crew were starting fights because of the tension. Bilbo had started to throw up. Stress, Oin said, and possibly an ulcer. Eventually, Thorin ordered Kili to make for the border of the Rohan and Gondor Systems. A great black expanse covered the rest of the Rohan System to the border. The two Systems were separated by a black expanse filled only with a string of rocks fondly called “the Mering Stream”. The ship sailed back and forth along the Stream until their radar finally picked up a ship.

“Drift along,” Thorin ordered. “When they hail, stop and answer. Give them the idea we are not willing to strike a deal.”

“Because we’re not,” Kili muttered. Thorin cuffed him on the head. His nephew really needed to stop back talking him. Kili flinched and shot him a kicked puppy look. “You hung me from a wall.” At that, Thorin hugged his youngest nephew.

“And I will never do that again. Not unless I do not have to.”

“Hey!”

Chuckling, Thorin ruffled his nephew’s hair and hurried from the cockpit. Kili’s squawks followed him through the hall and down the stairs to the second level. He made his way down the hall of sleeping rooms where he paused at a door and knocked.

“Come in,” Dwalin called. The door slid open with the push of a green button. Thorin appraised the sight of his friend seated on the bed polishing his axes. Bilbo laid at the other end of the bed, swaddled in blankets. The Hobbit’s face had gone a sickly pale color in the last few days.

“How is he feeling?” Thorin asked softly. Dwalin paused and glanced at Bilbo out of the corner of his eye.

“Threw up again today,” he said. “His stress is getting worse. He started talkin’ to himself too, muttering alphabets under his breath.”

“Must be a stress thing,” Thorin commented.

“I don’t handle stress well,” Bilbo said, his voice muffled by the blankets. Both Dwarves looked to him fervently but he didn’t open his eyes. Thorin was almost happy for it. The look of oncoming terrors made him sick. He felt guilty for betraying his friend.

“Is the Government nearby?” Dwalin asked.

“They just found us,” Thorin answered.

“Thank Eru,” Bilbo muttered before rolling over and vomiting in a bucket. Dwalin flinched in sympathy then shook his head. Tossing the whetstone aside, he hefted his axe.

“Strike to kill?”

“No, injure only,” Thorin said with a shake of his head. Bilbo rolled back onto the bed and whimpered. “We do not want murder charges added to our records.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dwalin muttered. Bilbo whimpered again and burrowed under the blankets. Hurrying across the room, Thorin crouched down beside him.

“Bilbo,” he said urgently. “You need to trust us. Everything will be alright.”

“They’ll cut my head open.”

“Gandalf will make sure that will not happen.”

“He’s never stopped it before.”

“Bilbo . . . Bilbo, look at me!” A corner of the blanket fell away to reveal a green eye filled with tears. Thorin reached under the blanket to brush away a lock of hair. Bilbo’s hair had really started to get unruly recently with its length. No one had bothered to cut it. “I promise, nothing will happen to you. We will come for you, we always do. Do you know why?” Bilbo shook his head back and forth. “You are our Child of the Stars,” Thorin told him. Bilbo chuckled weakly.

“I can’t believe that name stuck,” the Hobbit whispered. “I use it once with the trolls and you never let me live it down.”

“Good name,” Dwalin grunted. Bilbo burrowed back into his blankets. “Bilbo, listen, there’s an old sayin’ from the army.”

“What’s that?”

“When you can’t run you walk,” Dwalin quoted. “When you can’t walk you crawl.”

“And when you cannot crawl you find someone to carry you,” Thorin finished. “Let us carry you those last few steps. We will see you safely through this.”

“Ears and toes?” was Bilbo’s muffled reply.

“Strike the hammer and grind the stone,” Thorin said with a serious nod. “We will take this promise all the way home.”

“Thorin, they’re boarding,” Fili’s voice shouted through the intercom system. Thorin and Dwalin exchanged glances before standing and taking up defensive stances before Bilbo’s bed.

Shouts and the sounds of bullets firing echoed through the hall. Thorin drew _Orcrist_ from its sheath, holding it before him. Pounding boots drew closer with each second that passed. Bilbo had begun whimpering under his breath. Thorin could have sword it was a quiet prayer to Eru.

The door slammed off its rail. The action caught Thorin by surprise. He stiffened for a split second before understanding what he saw. A Man dressed in the Government’s traditional black suits, nine gold rings on the left breast, stood on the doorway with his weapon drawn. The Man barked a single word before firing the weapon. Thorin barely had a moment to raise his sword before the Taser bullet struck him. He spasmed with the electricity, collapsing to the floor in a twitching heap. Boots pounded past him. From his place on the floor, he saw Dwalin fighting like a wild cat. Seven men fell with bruised heads, and possibly egos, before an agent finally managed to hit him with a buzz baton. The warrior fell the floor with a furious howl. Bilbo’s screams filled the room as the Men dragged him off the bed.

“You have the right to remain silent,” a Man shouted in Thorin’s ear as he rolled him over. The Dwarf’s arms were dragged back and handcuffed as he continued. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in court.” Thorin rolled his eyes inwardly. He intended to be long gone before the court trial had even started.

Thorin fell asleep sometime during the flight to a prison Station. He woke up in a holding cell, his personal possessions missing. Several hours passed before someone came from him. Four guards handcuffed him and escorted him to an interrogation room where they locked him to the table. Thorin glared as the agent moved to sit in the chair across from him.

“So, Thorin . . . Oakenshield, is it?” the Agent asked. “Or is it Durin? I never can tell with you Dwarves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, the Rohirrim are about the biggest Browncoats you'll ever find in my story. I ended falling in love with Fengel. Too bad he's dead for the Lord of the Rings. :/


	61. Tried and True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the first chapter of the final part of the story. This has been so much fun. Thanks for all your support!

**Tried and True**

Balin gave the Man a few moments to himself. It was a lot to take in, the story he’d just finished. To hear ones Government broke its own laws, tortured a race, and about an entire crew going to war. That was . . . well, that was unbelievable. Balin wouldn’t have believed it himself if he hadn’t lived it.

“It’s a trap,” Agent Smith finally said, rocking back on his heels. He raked a hand through his hair. It stood up now away from his forehead from the amount of time he’d done that in the past few hours. “You were planning this the entire time.”

“Not from the beginning,” Balin corrected. “We didn’t know any of this was going to happen when we first found Bilbo. We thought he was just a Hobbit we needed to return to his System.”

“But it _was_ planned?” Agent Smith asked urgently, and Balin nodded.

“Aye, we planned it,” the old Dwarf told the Man. “We didn’t know what we were going to do when we were captured, but we knew we had to be arrested.”

“But . . .” Agent Smith frowned at a new thought. “When would you’ve had the time to put this plan into action? You’ve been locked in your room the entire time.”

“Ah, you see, Nori’s not exactly an easy Dwarf to lock up. I don’t suppose you noticed him unlock his handcuffs while he was talking to you.”

“How did he get around?”

“Through the air vents,” Balin said seriously. Agent Smith’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You have quite the system of vents on this Station. Only the technology room was off limits to him. Even then all Nori had to do was steal a hand-pad and he was good to go.” Agent Smith fell on his butt, blinking. Balin smiled gently at him. “I realize this is a lot to take in right now.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Agent Smith said softly. “The guards on this Station will stop you.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, laddie,” Balin said just as the lights of his cell flickered. The bulbs buzzed in their sockets, fell black, and then lit up again. A resounding click echoed through the cell. Both Balin and Agent Smith turned to look at the door which slid open. “Nori has been hacking your mainframe for the last few hours during our talk. All your guards were ordered to different stations and have now been locked in there. They won’t be able to hack their way out of there for some time.” Agent Smith laughed in disbelief, his hands clutching his stomach.

“You Dwarves will never stop amazing me,” he laughed. Balin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “What are you, the Dirty Baker’s Dozen?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Balin said. Standing from the bed, he gave the Man a small bow. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a Hobbit to save. It’d be smart of you not to get in our way.”

“I don’t think I could if I even wanted to. Go, save your Hobbit, and may the gods smile on you.” Balin gave the Man one more bow before hurrying from the room.

O.o.O

Thorin’s boots echoed off the floor as he charged down the hall. His braids bounced off his back and chest, pounding in time with his heart. This was their one chance to escape, their chance to rescue Bilbo. They couldn’t screw it up. Turning a corner, Thorin slowed to a stop beside an open door. A peek inside revealed Nori leaning against a shelf while Dwalin grabbed his axes from a desk. The thief happened to glance over and winked at Thorin.

“Great to see you’re alive, Captain Tight Pants,” he said. Thorin growled and shoved past him. He found his weapons on an upper shelf just out of his reach. Stepping onto a lower level, he grabbed the top of the shelf and dragged himself upward. His fingers just barely brushed the weapon.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Dwalin said. Reaching past Thorin, he easily plucked the sword from its place. The blade caught something solid, sending it clattering down the shelf levels. Thorin caught it just as it collided with his chest. He blinked in surprise to see the Arkenstone nestled in his palm. He’d forgotten about it.

“Tauriel messaged me,” Nori said, waving a gadget in his hand. His mace had been placed beside him and his knives were already in his belt. Thorin took his sword from Dwalin while the thief brought him up to speed. “She and Legolas sent the _Eagles_ our way before they rescued Kili, Fili, and Ori. They should be here any minute.”

“Can we make it?” Dwalin asked. Gloin and Oin entered the room. The brothers hurried to grab their weapons and leave, making their way toward the allotted observation deck.

“If we stand around talking, then no,” Nori pointed out. He shoved the gadget into his pocket and grabbed his mace. “But if he leave now, we should have enough time.” Dwalin made a swipe at the thief who ducked under it and took off out of the room laughing.

“I’ll kill that guy one day,” Dwalin muttered.

“Not in this age,” Thorin reminded him. “Help me get Fili and Kili’s weapons or they will give me more grief than they already do.”

The two friends spent two minutes grabbing the swords and bow. Thorin strapped the bow and quiver around his own body and took Kili’s sword. Dwalin shoved Fili’s swords into his axe belt. The hilts stuck up from his shoulders like funny growths. Ready to go, they passed Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur who had all come for the weapons. It was a straight on dash to the observation deck on the other side of the Station. Dori, Nori, Gloin, and Oin were already waiting for them.

“Where’s Balin?” Dwalin demanded.

“He’s on his way,” Dori spoke up, grabbing the warrior’s attention in a second. “He had to finish the story with the agent first.”

“Blast that agent,” Dwalin muttered.

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Nori muttered. Dori smacked him upside the head and he yelped. “What’d you do that for?”

“Because you shouldn’t insult Dwalin like that anymore. He’s part of the crew.”

“You still call Oin an old, deaf codger!”

“Who’s a dodger?”

“Brother!”

Thorin groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he wondered how _the Arkenstone_ even stayed up in the sky. She should have crashed and burned in their first flight with this dysfunctional crew. Thorin’s eyes drifted down to the shining stone in his palm. It glowed in the light, rainbows shimmering across its surface. He had half a mind to throw it aside then and there. He almost did. Only the thought of the Men getting a hold of the stone made him shove it into his pocket. He’d give it to Dain later . . . maybe.

Balin arrived with Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur trailing after him. The first-mate glanced around their crew, as though taking attendance, then nodded to himself. As usual, he planted his hands on his hips. Thorin swore he could recognize his friend’s silhouette just from that one habit.

“Everyone’s here,” Balin said, more to himself than anyone else. “What is the status of the _Eagles_?”

“Any minute now,” Nori said, not looking up from his gadget. “Just in time, too. A few of the guards have managed to break out of their rooms.”

“What?” Thorin demanded. “And you did not think you needed to tell me this?”

“Sometimes the details aren’t that important,” Nori said with a wave of his hand. His free fingers tapped wildly across the screen. “Relax, Captain Tight Pants, I’ll have those guards locked up in a jiffy.”

“We don’t have a jiffy,” Bofur said as he backed away from the door. His eyes were trained on the hall past it. “They’re comin’ this way.” Thorin whirled on the spot to find his engineer was right. Several guards charged their way, shouting for the Dwarves to stop.

“Nori, stop them!”

“On it!”

“NORI!”

“I’M ON IT!” The doors of the observation deck slammed shut and locked. Nori huffed, shoving the gadget into his pocket. “See, I told you I had it.”

“We could’ve been captured again,” Bofur howled. “That’s the last thin’ we need right now.”

“The guards are locked out.”

“And we’re locked in,” Dwalin growled. Nori scowled at him.

“Just shut up, hold your breath, and hold onto something.”

“Hold onto something?” Dori repeated. “Nori, what are you talking about? What did you do?”

“Nothing . . . yet,” Nori said. “Now: breath, hold, something, grab.” He wrapped his fingers around a railing on one of the upper decks. The rest of the crew mimicked his action, looking around at each other nervously. Bifur was the only one who seemed perfectly at ease with what was happening.

“Is this goin’ ta work?” Bofur eventually asked nervously.

“In theory,” Nori answered.

“In theory!” was all Bofur got out before the entire Station shook.

The window of the semi-circular room blew out. Shards of glass flew both ways. They sliced through Thorin’s pants, slicing easily through his skin. Thorin gritted his teeth against the pain. A gust of oxygen and pressure combined rushed out of the room and into the black nothingness. Thorin’s braids fluttered in the faux breeze. A bead almost took out his eye. His body had gone horizontal with the floor with the loss of gravity. The loss of window had caused a whirlpool effect, sucking everything in the room toward the gaping hole.

Out of the corner of his eye, Thorin spotted Nori waving as best as he could. The Dwarf, slowly growing blue in the face, jabbed a thumb backward. Thorin didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. He knew what was coming. Nori uncurled his fingers from the railing. The Dwarf flew backward and disappeared from Thorin’s vision. Looking back to his own fingers, Thorin tried to force them to release. His lungs had already begun to burn with the lack of oxygen.

 _Let go._ A voice said in Thorin’s head. He gritted his teeth against the fear growing in his stomach. _Just let go. Do it for Bilbo._ That did it. Wrenching his fingers free, Thorin allowed himself to be dragged backward by the force of the whirlpool. A moment of terror passed when he exited the Station. He could die out here in the black space. There was nothing to separate him from floating toward a sun.

Black dots had just begun to flood Thorin’s vision when a presence loomed behind him. A mithril belly swallowed him in one smooth move. _Úhúrud_ ’s screens flashed a brilliant blue at Thorin as the ship sailed upside down. The panels folded shut. The AI evened out the environment: returning both gravity and oxygen to the area. Thorin hit the ground with a groan. For a full minute he just laid their and breathed. The sweet oxygen flooded into his lungs, chasing away the black dots.

“All on board?” Nori’s voice said through the intercom.

“Alive,” Thorin called, waving a hand vaguely. Other voices called out until all ten Dwarves were accounted for. _Úhúrud_ trilled happily then flipped over. It wasn’t until then that Thorin realized he’d been lying on the ceiling. He hit the ground harder than when the gravity had turned back on. A pained moan escaped his lips and _Úhúrud_ cooed questioningly, as though wondering what had happened and if Thorin was really that clumsy.

“Blasted ship,” Thorin muttered. His _Eagle_ screeched angrily at him. The screens went black and a shock ran up through the floor. Thorin bolted upright with a yelp. The ship trilled, laughing to itself. “I could have you melted down for spare parts.” A screen flickered yellow and black as though the ship was winking to him, saying _no you wouldn’t_. Thorin could only smirk and shake his head. _Úhúrud_ was right. They’d been through too much together for him to melt the ship down.

The flock of _Eagles_ soared through the black space. Several times a Government shuttle headed after them. A threat would be issued and a warning shot fired along the hull. An _Eagle_ would spin around in midair, continuing to fly backward, while they shot liquid fire back and hacked into the Government’s systems. The ships would fall back defeated after a few minutes. They reached _the Arkenstone_ within a few hours. The cargo bay door opened in a welcoming manner and the _Eagles_ entered one by one. They took their places after the assimilation chamber on the floor. _Sparrow_ sang sadly to itself, its screens flickering black and white.

“She’s mournin’,” Bofur said sadly, running a hand along the hull of the ship. “She knows what happened ta Bilbo.” _Sparrow_ gave a particularly sad coo that wrenched Thorin’s heart. He almost wanted to hug the ship. “Maybe I shouldn’t have made them so human,” Bofur said in a mournful tone.

“No,” Thorin disagreed. “They would not have been as good as they are today.” Turning toward the stairs, he hurried up them to the gangway. Tauriel, Legolas, Kili, Fili, and Ori were waiting for him.

“We need to go now,” Tauriel said, waving a hand for Thorin to go back down the way he came. Thorin paused at the top of the stairs. He remained where he was, even when Tauriel smacked him on the back of his head. “Move!”

“Where are we going?” Thorin asked carefully.

“To save Bilbo,” Kili said, confused. “We need to take the _Eagles_ to get to the Shire System.”

“We have the Arkenstone,” Thorin said. His nephews backpedaled, appalled.

“You’re still thinking about that damn thing?” Fili demanded. “After everything it caused.”

“I’m not talking about the Arkenstone,” Thorin said. He waved a hand to a nearby wall. “We have _the Arkenstone_. We need it for my plan to work.”

“We would never get there in time,” Legolas argued.

“This ship would make the trip if a few months,” Tauriel continued. “We only have two days. You would need a miracle” Thorin repeated the word to himself. He blinked once before an old memory surfaced. Whirling around, he grabbed the railing of the gangway.

“Bofur!” The Dwarf in question glanced up at his name. “Your wormhole device.”

“Aye,” Bofur said nervously. “What about it?”

“Fetch it,” Thorin ordered. The engineer blanched but ran up the steps and past the assembled crew, disappearing into the upper levels. Tauriel watched the Dwarf go in confusion. She turned back to Thorin.

“Wormhole device?” she repeated.

“It’s something he’s been working on,” Kili explained. The confusion in Tauriel’s eyes only grew. “It’s supposed to open a hole in one place and another in another place . . . he explains it better.”

“Ah,” Tauriel said. The Dwarves and Elves stood in a silence only broken when Dori hurried to fuss over his younger brother. Ori was more than happy to submit to the attention. It meant his brothers were back with him and everything was fine.

Bofur returned several minutes after his departure with several silver discs in his arms. They were the size of CDs, broad on the top and slimming down to the edges. Four black wire caps stuck out at cardinal directions. Tauriel took one of the discs to examine it.

“Curious,” she said. “What does it do?”

“It rips open a hold in time and space,” Bofur said. He shoved a series of discs into Legolas’ arms. The Elf ducked to catch them before they fell, scowling at the engineer. Each of the discs had been marked with a white _X_. “Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Legolas repeated. “You mean you have never tested it?”

“Aye, I have. Just on small objects like dogs and cats.” Thorin groaned and ran a hand down his face. So _that’s_ where all those animals on Harad had gone. Leave it to his engineer to inadvertently cause trouble.

“What if it does not work?” Legolas asked.

“Well, it could go two ways,” Bofur said, holding up a finger. “One, nothin’ happens. That’s the good option.” He raised a second finger. “Two, the devices rip open a wormhole, we get in, it collapses, and creates a black-hole and sucks everythin’ in the vicinity in and destroys an entire System.” The Elves, unused to Bofur’s personality, blinked in surprise then turned to Thorin.

“You are sure you want to do this?” Tauriel asked, and Thorin nodded. “Very well. What needs to be done?”

“Take these devices,” Bofur explained, grabbing the disc from Tauriel. “Ya need ta place them twenty feet from one another in a hexagon. Press the red button in the center of each one. Wires’ll attach together. I press a button and boom, instant wormhole.”

“And possible grave,” Kili said. Thorin shot him a glare. “What? We could die doing this!”

“It is our only option,” Thorin snapped at his nephew. “I need this ship for my plan to work.”

“Very well,” Legolas said, straightening up. He held the pile of discs close to his chest. “We will get these over the Shire System and set them up. Expect a call in two days for the go ahead. Expect it.” Thorin nodded once and stepped aside. The two Elves flew down the stairs toward the _Bainrîn_. Thorin watched them with a heavy heart. This was his one and only chance to save his little friend.

O.o.O

_His heart was starting to fail. It couldn’t take much more of this torture. His scalp itched and screamed. He wanted them out, out, out. They hurt. They brought dry tears to his face. He didn’t have either the water to spare or the will to cry. He could only lie there and wish Thorin would rescue him already. He’d promised._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I forgot to mention in the last chapter. I'm following Tolkien's idea with the Rohirrim. They have Anglo-Saxon descent from Earth. The Men of Harad would come from the African range.


	62. Duties and Debacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, feeling for bad for shouting at Castor now. Oopsie. Anyway, here's the first chapter of the day as we begin to wind down from this crazy adventure, er, Bid Damn Adventure.

**Duties and Debacles**

Thorin almost wept for joy when the call came. Without their captain, Tauriel’s crew were almost as bad as Bilbo when the Dwarves let him get bored. Almost. They stole Bofur’s hat and played _Dwarf in the middle_ , spoke in pompous-sounding Sindarin around the Durin royalty, tittered about like twittering fairies, and were general misfits. Thorin was so going to tell on them to Tauriel. So when Kili called him into the cockpit with Tauriel on a call screen, he nearly cried.

“We are ready on this end,” Tauriel said. “Dain has set up a guard of _Battle Rams_ around the wormhole generator. They are headed by someone named . . . Dis?” Thorin groaned aloud while Fili and Kili whooped. “You know her?”

“That’s our mom!” Kili cried out excitedly. “Did you tell her about Bilbo?”

“I will have to assume Dain told her,” Tauriel answered. “She seems very bent on getting her brothers “Child” back.”

“Trust my sister to cause trouble,” Thorin muttered under his breath. Ignoring Kili’s howling laugher, he turned his gaze to the windshield. Their end of the wormhole generator floated in space just before _the Arkenstone_. Over twenty shimmering discs formed a hexagon large enough to swallow the ship.

“Is Bofur there,” Tauriel asked, a note of nervousness in her voice.

“Kili, quit laughing and go find Bofur,” Thorin ordered. His nephew only obeyed part of the order. Giggling hysterically, he tripped his way out of the cockpit.

“What happens if this plan does not work?” Tauriel asked Thorin seriously. Behind her, Legolas shouted to someone furiously.

“Fetch Bilbo yourselves,” Thorin told the Elf. “You and Legolas are clever, you should be able to find him. We will be around in a few weeks to pick him up.”

“And if the wormhole collapses with you in it?”

“Take Bilbo to Elrond.” Tauriel’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the Elf. “He has friends on Rivendell who would keep him happy. I think living among Dwarves without us would not help his mourning his period.” Fili made a small sound in the back of his throat. Thorin clapped his nephew comfortingly on the shoulder.

“I’m here!” Bofur shouted, hurrying into the cockpit. His hat had been jammed onto his head and tied there with a string of leather. He looked like an idiot. At least, Thorin thought so. “Are we ready to go?”

“Aye,” Tauriel said from the screen. She raised a small red button. “We are ready when you are.”

“Oh, ya found the detonator. Good. I forgot to tell ya about that.” Kili snickered behind Bofur’s back. Thorin slapped him upside the head but sent his engineer a withering look. Bofur would be the death of him one of these days.

“On three,” Tauriel said. Bofur dug out his own detonator and held it up, his thumb poised over the red button.

“Fili, prepare to fly,” Thorin ordered. Fili’s boots hit the floor hard as they fell from the console. The senior pilot of the ship grabbed the controls with stiff fingers, shifting purposefully in his seat.

“ _Mîn_ ,” Tauriel counted off in Sindarin.

“ _Nu’_ ,” Bofur said with a twinkle in his eye. Both races pressed their thumbs ever so gently to the buttons.

“ _Nêl_!” “ _Gem_!” They said at the same time. Their thumbs jammed the buttons down at the same time.

Nothing happened for a single long minute. Thorin gripped the headrest of Fili’s chair tightly. The leather creaked under his grip. He was about to demand that Bofur fix the problem when a red-light flickered on one of the discs. One by one, each disc lit up until the sky was filled with a red constellation. Thorin leaned back, staring at the hexagons in awe.

“Here we go,” Bofur muttered. Fili straightened in his chair, his grip tightening on the controls.

Electricity crackled between the discs. The four inner discs shifted inward, dragging the rest of the discs with it. The wires stretched out as a hole widened in the center of the hexagon. The electricity continued to grow until it filled the squares completely. The knitted squares were filled almost completely with crackling light.

“Go!” Thorin shouted as soon as the hole was large enough. He shouldn’t have bothered. Fili had already jammed the controls forward.

The ship rocketed forward into the growing hole. The electricity danced across the hull, licking up the windows. Thorin swallowed hard when a bolt struck their ship hard. Kili whirled around to watch the radar, keeping an eye on the ship’s controls. They passed through the net of crackling electricity in several long agonizing seconds. They completely passed through the hole in the net.

Thorin didn’t know what he had expected. Maybe the netting would have continued on through the wormhole, the two generators weaving together in the center. Or maybe it would have resembled one of the many halls of Erebor. The wormhole was neither of these. The walls were made of a bubble-like substance. They shimmered, lights and rainbows dancing along the surfaces. Just beyond them Thorin could make out the black sky and planets shooting by. They were passing through leagues of land in only a few minutes.

“It worked,” Bofur laughed in surprise. Thorin couldn’t stop the huff of amazement. Kili stared out the windshield with wide eyes. The lights of the wormhole shone in his eyes.

“Amazing,” Fili said in a hushed voice. He kept his fingers tight on the controls, urging the ship forward. They traveled on in amazed silence for several minutes until something beeped in Bofur’s pocket. The engineer withdrew a handheld gadget from his pocket to consult the screen.

“Uh-oh.”

“What is it?” Thorin demanded. Bofur’s fingers flew across the screen, the Dwarf chewing his lip nervously. “Bofur, what happened?”

“One of the discs on our end blew,” Bofur said without looking up from the gadget. Thorin’s stomach twisted. “The machine’s startin’ ta fail.”

“What?” Kili squealed. “We ripped open a black-hole?”

“Not yet,” Bofur assured the younger Dwarf. “Only a few of the discs have gone. If I detonate the rest of them from here then . . . no black-hole.”

“Do it,” Thorin ordered.

“But we could end up trapped in a wormhole with no way out,” Bofur said. “The wormhole will unravel from our end ta Tauriel’s. We’d be stuck in limbo.” Fili and Kili turned their eyes on Thorin. He could see the determination in their gazes.

“We can make it,” Thorin said firmly. “Burn her hot. Detonate the discs.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Bofur said. His fingers tapped against the screen and he stuffed the gadget into his pocket. “Done!” Whirling around, he leapt from the cockpit. “Bif! Celegrûth! Burn ‘er hot!” An answering shout came from both engineers down the hall.

“Go, Fili, go!” Thorin roared. His nephew slammed the controls forward. The engine screamed in her cradle. Thorin had a moment of déjà vu from a very similar situation.

The ship sped through the wormhole, leaving black smoke in her wake. Far behind the ship, the bubble-like walls were unraveling like a worn scarf. The threads vanished into space, lost forever. The unraveling net flew after _the Arkenstone_. The two raced neck and neck toward the end of the tunnel. It was a life or death situation.

The light appeared at the end of the tunnel. It gave Thorin a slightly ironic feeling that this was how he could die. After everything he’d gone through in the past few months and he could die with the light at the end of the tunnel. Kili urged his brother on with a whine in his voice, pounding a beat in the back of the chair. Fili gritted his teeth against the shaking and spoke calming words of their own childish language. Thorin moved his grip to the railing and stood there watching the light grow ever closer.

They shot out the other end of the wormhole just as it collapsed. The bubble-like walls completely unraveled. The discs exploded in their places like Gandalf’s fireworks. The lights shone in the black sky. Wires snapped and floated away from their anchors. Smoke floated lazily through the gravity-lacking area, tugged toward the nearest sun.

War raged on before them. The _U’zugh Khazad_ floated head-to-head against Government ships. _Battle Rams_ and _Starlights_ screamed past through the air firing off plasma and laser bullets. Ships exploded with the ammunition. Fire licked its way through the sky. The _G.F.P Palantir_ burned in its place. Several shuttles shot out of the Government ship heading for others. Several of these the _Battle Rams_ caught in midair with their shield generators. The shuttles were left unable to fly but with life support. The survivors would be picked up later. The Battle for the Barrow Downs had begun.

“Wow,” Kili breathed. The _Bainrîn_ shot past them on its way to another Government ship giving an _U’zugh Khazad_ grief. Tauriel disabled several of their cannons before firing a single shot at the engine. The explosion rocked every ship near it. Steel sheets an engine parts floated away, fire dying on their surfaces.

“Hail Dain,” Thorin ordered his nephews. “Tell him we are going in for Bilbo.” Fili nodded once.

Thorin threw himself from the cockpit. He tore through the hall and down the stairs, completely bypassing the second level. The second set of stairs were taken in two long bounds like a rabbit. Balin and several of Tauriel’s crewmembers stood beside the broken down shuttle. The Dwarf had just finished manually locking the door when Thorin charged down the gangway toward them.

“Is it done?” Thorin asked, slowing to a stop before his old friend.

“Aye,” Balin said with a nod. “The heat eggs should give off a false energy to the Government. They won’t know the difference.”

“The way it should be,” Thorin said. Turning on the spot, he grabbing the railing. His eyes scanned the many _Eagles_ resting on the floor. “Arise, arise, great birds of space!” The ships whirred curiously, their screens flickering to life. “This is the day the Khazad break free from the Government’s hold. Today we tell them no more. No longer can they experiment on Hobbits. We will take the Shire System for ourselves. Arise and fight!”

The ships screamed in delight. _Úhúrud_ rose from her place on the floor. Her wings expanded to their full span and she shot around the ship, trilling. _Sparrow_ gave off a vengeful trill, rocketing out from under the gangway. The air of the cargo bay filled with the swirling _Eagles_. One by one, they shot toward the cargo bay’s door. The assimilation chamber saw them out to the battlefield where they wreaked havoc on the Government ships. Thorin watched them go with a sense of pride. This was more than he could have asked for.

“Thorin,” Fili shouted through the intercom. “Dain’s got us a way into the Shire System. We have five minutes to get in. He doesn’t know if he can get us out.”

“Take it,” Thorin ordered, knowing Fili would have kept the link open. “Let us know the moment we are past the border.”

“Roger that. Kili, hold this button. No, not that button, _this_ button. THIS ONE, YOU IDIOT!”

The entire ship shuddered with the explosions raging outside. Thorin grabbed the railing of the gangway to keep himself steady as _the Arkenstone_ lurched to the left. Something whistled outside and exploded just outside the cargo bay’s walls. Balin almost fell backward but an Elf grabbed him and held him up. Tauriel’s crew easily kept their footing while they spoke back and forth to each other in Sindarin. Keeping his hold on the railing, Thorin sent a small prayer to Mahal.

Outside the ship, war raged on. The _U’zugh Khazad_ were winning with their sheer manpower. Several _Battle Rams_ broke away from their groups accompanied by _Starlights_. They took up positions before a rogue _King’s Jewel_. Their guns fired a path through Government ships, Stations and debris for the ship. Shots aimed their way were deflected by shield generators and _Eagles_ screaming through the air. The _Battle Rams_ and _Starlights_ saw _the Arkenstone_ straight through enemy line and broke away to rejoin the fight.

“Thorin, we’re through!” Fili shouted. “We’ve got a ship coming our way!”

“Cloakers,” Thorin roared, whirling around to face Balin and the Elves. “Set it loose,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, Captain Tight Pants,” one of the Elves said with a salute. Thorin growled at him.

Balin and Corulang worked together to prepare the shuttle for take-off. If everything had gone according to plan then the engine would be given a jolt of energy. It would run for perhaps five minutes and send the shuttle toward a nearby planet. The Government, reading the heat sensors, would follow the shuttle and _the Arkenstone_ would have a clear path toward the Barrow Downs.

At Thorin’s signal, the engine was ignited manually by Corulang the navigator. Pops and squeals escaped the shuttle as the engine began to spin in its cradle. Balin and Halltinnu released the docking grips at the same time. The shuttle drifted away from the ship and made a beeline for Buckland. With fire spewing out its back end, it led the Government ship on a faux manhunt.

“Now, Fili!” Thorin shouted.

“Can I stop holding this button now?” Kili’s voice carried through the system.

“No! Shut up and keep your thumb on the button,” Fili snapped to his brother. “On our way, Uncle. We’re almost there.”

“Dwalin, Bofur, and Nori, with me,” Thorin called. “Weapons at the ready and get down to the cargo bay.” No answer came to him, but he didn’t expect any. If everything went according to plan then the Dwarves would already be on their way down. “Balin, guard the ship with the Elves. The Government will not have left the Barrow Downs unguarded.

“Consider it done,” Halltinnu said with a nod. “No Man will get on this ship without going through us first.” Corulang nodded in agreement, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow.

Dwalin, Bofur, and Nori arrived in the cargo bay with their weapons at the ready. The four Dwarves converged at the cargo bay door. The Elves perched themselves on the railing, bows aimed toward the door. Balin stood at the top of the center steps. The tip of his sword rested against the floor. The ship shuddered as she slowed in a landing. The floor jolted under Thorin’s feet and Fili’s voice came through once more.

“Sorry, rough landing. Never been in this kind of atmosphere before. Go get him, Uncle.”

“Let’s go,” Thorin barked. Dwalin slammed the black button down on the control panel. The main door lowered with a whir, hitting the ground hard. Billows of dust fluttered up.

Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bofur charged down the ramp. They were met with a familiar scene. Thorin had seen this before. They stood on a hill overlooking a series of stone hills. Gray clouds roiled through the sky. The grass under the boots had yellowed with the lack of rain and trees stood dead in their place.

“Yikes,” Nori breathed.

“Got a signal,” Bofur said. “They didn’t take the tracker out of his arm.” Thorin accepted the offered gadget and examined the green screen. A small dot flickered against the background.

“He is down there,” Thorin said softly. Tucking the gadget into his belt, he drew _Orcrist_. “Let us go get our Hobbit.”

The four Dwarves made their way down the hill. The going was tough. The ground crumbled under the footsteps. The hill’s slope was an awkward angle, making them slip down the surface. Dwalin swore each time while Nori skipped down like a mountain goat. Until he tripped over a rock and rolled the rest of the way down. Bofur would have howled with laughter if Thorin hadn’t shot him a warning look.

The gravestone-like hills began immediately at the base of the hill. They were twice as tall as the Dwarves with sealed doors. Roman numerals of the twenty-first century had been engraved above each door. Judging by the precision of the stonework, these hills were not natural. They had been built by the Government. They had been laid out in a grid pattern. They continued down in long rows and columns. It reminded Thorin of the neighborhoods back on the Blue Mountains.

“Turn right,” Thorin ordered in a soft voice after a quick check of the screen.

Dwalin led the way, skirting around the corner. Bofur moved backwards with the group. He kept his eyes glued on their surroundings. Nori’s head whipped around as he kept an eye on everything.

They continued on for nearly fifteen minutes without meeting someone. Their luck ran out by their fourth left turn. A door directly to their left cracked open. A tall, pale figure stepped out into the starlight. Whether it was female or male, Thorin couldn’t tell. The Man, as clearly it could only be, wore a long, white coat and a pair of blue gloves. It blinked once in surprise then opened its mouth to scream. Dwalin leapt forward in a second, bringing the flat side of his axe down on the Man’s head. It tumbled to the ground unconscious.

“Barrow-Wight,” Nori hissed. “They’re the scientists and guards who work here. Gandalf said they’re insane, from the Misty Mountains.” Thorin spared a glance for the Barrow-Wight before ducking into the tomb-like structure. Inside was a flat bed. A Hobbit, rather tall and stout for his kind, laid on it with tubes sticking out of his arms. Sensors at his temple read the brainwaves.

“Thorin, we’re here for Bilbo,” Dwalin said in a hushed voice, though his tone gave him away. If he had it his way, every single Hobbit on this forsaken rock would be taken away.

“Call for Gloin and Bifur,” Thorin ordered. “Tell them to come and fetch this one. The door is open anyway.” He marched past Dwalin who gave him a single nod and grin then reached for his walkie-talkie. The Dwarves would be there in minutes to collect the Hobbit.

“Pure Harfoot,” Bofur commented after a check in the structure. “Kinda tall fer his kind.”

“Move on,” Thorin ordered.

They followed the directions from the gadget, only meeting one more Barrow-Wight on the way there. Nori took out this one with a swing of his mace. Inside was a pure-bred Fallohide, according to Bofur, connected to a machine with a cap of wires. Thorin called Oin and Celegrûth to collect her before continuing on.

The gadget led the group through the maze of Downs, as Bofur had started to call them. The numbers continued to grow and shrink on the doors. There seemed to be no order to them. They didn’t rise or fall in chronological order. Thorin didn’t understand the system until he stood before Bilbo’s prison. _I-II-IX-I_ had been engraved above the door. Thorin read the numbers and understanding dawned on him. It was the serial numbers tattooed on Bilbo’s wrist. The Wights weren’t counting the amount of Hobbits they had, they were listing them off. It made him sick.

Nori managed to break through the door’s system after several minutes of using his electric lock-pick. It slid open with a rumbling sound, much like stones grating against stone. Thorin stepped into the Down. He almost threw up.

Bilbo had been strapped down to a chair-like structure that reclined. It held him up at a forty-five degree angle. He wore only a pair of pants and his head had been shaved. Sensors were attached to his chest, ticking off his heartbeat and lung activity. Tubes were taped to his wrists. But that wasn’t the worst. It was the feeding and breathing tubes that horrified Thorin. The Hobbit was being held on a life-support system, forced to endure this torture.

“Bless me,” Bofur moaned when he stepped up behind Thorin. Dwalin swore colorfully and Nori hissed.

“Dwalin,” Thorin said, his voice cracking. “Guard the door.” The warrior grunted and turned his back. “Bofur, Nori, help me get him out of there.” He led the engineer and thief toward Bilbo’s still form. On the Hobbit’s head was a cap of wires. Thorin stared at it curiously before motioning to Bofur. The engineer examined it for a moment.

“It’s a cap of brain probes,” Bofur eventually proclaimed. Thorin shut his eyes tight and swallowed back the bile. “Medics use them sometimes ta measure the brainwaves of life-support victims.”

“Can you remove it?” Thorin asked. He stepped out of Nori’s way as the thief bustled around removing needles and undoing straps. Their Hobbit would be free in no time.

“Not in these conditions,” Bofur said. “It’d be like rippin’ porcupine needles out of his leg.” Thorin flinched at the description. “I can detach it from the system, though.”

“Do it.” Bofur nodded once and turned toward the beeping machine, his screwdrivers at the ready. Thorin busied himself with removing the feeding tube.

“Leave the breathing tube,” Nori ordered in a hushed whisper. Thorin shot him a dark look. “Bofur can reroute it to a smaller tank.”

“We need to take it out,” Thorin argued.

“And have Bilbo wake up in the middle of this process? No thank you. He’ll scream, fight, and hurt himself.” Thorin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Nori was right. Bilbo hadn’t reacted well the first time he’d woken up on _the Arkenstone_. His reaction in the Downs could be much worse.

“Good to go,” Bofur said after several minutes of tinkering about. He lifted a small machine by the handle. “I ripped out the core of the breathin’ machine and rerouted the energy.” The wires of the cap had been removed from the machine and cut to shorter lengths.

“Good work,” Thorin said. “Dwalin, carry Bilbo.” The warrior moved in a flash. Leaving his post at the door, he scooped Bilbo up into his arms. Bofur placed the modified machine onto the Hobbit’s stomach with careful balance. Bilbo remained dead to the entire situation. The room could have exploded and they wouldn’t have noticed.

They ran into more Barrow-Wights on their way back from Bilbo’s prison. Each one they took out with swings of their weapons. The guards and scientists converged on them so quickly Thorin started to suspect they’d set of an alarm. The Wights released creepy screams and howls when they fell to the floor. Unarmed, they were no match for the Dwarves, even if they did have more numbers. They collapsed to the ground in droves when the weapons struck them on the heads. Thorin could see the insanity in their eyes. Why the Government had placed these kind of people in charge of the Hobbits, he’d never know.

Balin and the Elves were waiting for them in the cargo bay. Several Barrow-Wights littered the ground with arrows lying around them. Thorin strode around them and hurried up the ramp, his crew close behind. Balin sighed mournfully at the sight of Bilbo. Thorin didn’t bother for an explanation to his friend. He slammed the button down, drawing the door back up, and turned toward the intercom.

“Take us out of the world, Fili.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in the 'verse!


	63. Contented and Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, everyone! The final chapter before the epilogue. This journey has been more than I could have ever asked for. Thanks to everyone for their support and reading my story.

**Contented and Closure**

_March 26 th, 5015; Rivendell_

Bilbo woke groggily to the sound of songbirds singing. Sunlight streamed across the willowy ceiling above him. Soft, gold satin hung in drapes around the smooth, curling posts above him. They rippled in a soft breeze that brought with it the smell of springtime. Bilbo blinked a few times, a crease forming in his forehead.

Everything was a blur. He remembered being dragged kicking and screaming from the bedroom. The doctors had poked and prodded him physically and mentally during his time on the Government’s Stations. And then it all blurred together. Cold hands grabbing him. Tubes in his throat. Pain prickling in his scalp. And waiting. Waiting for Thorin to come and rescue him.

The sound of a door opening caught Bilbo’s attention. Turning his head, he blinked blearily in the morning sun. He knew this room. The soft furniture and sandstone floors were familiar. Elvish tapestries depicting victories and celebrations covered the walls. This was the room he had stayed in on Rivendell.

If only to cement his thoughts, Lord Elrond himself entered the room. Behind him drifted a tall female Elf. Her gold curls fell in cascades down to her waist. The sleeves of her pristine dress fell down to the floor. She moved with the grace of water, something Bilbo had never seen before. The Hobbit opened his mouth and became aware of his situation. A flat, metal bard pinned his tongue down to the bottom of his mouth. It was connected to a mouth-mask that had been buckled at the back of his head. His wrists were strapped down to the bed by a leather thong stretched across the mattress.

“Mph,” Bilbo whimpered, twisting at his arms. The leather moved with him. It was a supple, well-used piece that hardly bit into his skin. Even the metal appeared to have been molded for a tongue’s shape. It was far from uncomfortable.

Lord Elrond and his companion ghosted across the room. They bent over Bilbo, their eyes examining him. Bilbo stopped wriggling about and whimpered again. A single tear slid from his eye down to the mattress. The female Elf considered him for a long moment with eyes that seemed to hold the stars. After a long minute, she turned her gaze to Lord Elrond and gave a knowing smile. Lord Elrond relaxed, a smile gracing his own lips. He straightened up and turned toward the door.

“You may see him now,” he said in his authoritative voice. Bilbo looked back to the door in time to see Bofur and Nori stick their heads in. Bofur whooped to see Bilbo awake and bounded in like a rabbit, Nori racing after him.

“Yer awake!” Bofur cried, throwing himself onto the bed. Bilbo bounced on the mattress with the movements. His confusion grew as Lord Elrond and the female Elf stepped back. Nori pounced onto the bed, not jostling Bilbo as much as Bofur had.

“We thought you’d never get better,” Nori commented. His fingers worked deftly at unbuckling the straps around Bilbo’s wrists. Bofur grabbed a hand the moment it was free and kissed it. His eyes were watery with tears.

“We were so worried about ya,” the engineer said. Nori’s fingers drifted behind Bilbo’s head and undid the straps. The bridle-like object was drawn from Bilbo’s mouth and the Hobbit smacked his lips.

“Here, let me get you some water,” Nori said. The Dwarf leaned aside and poured water from a jug on the bedside table into a goblet. Bofur helped ease Bilbo into a sitting position while Nori held the cup to the Hobbit’s lips. Bilbo drank greedily, taking in the sweet flavor of the water. When all the drink was gone, Nori set the goblet aside. He sat back on his heels, as though waiting for Bilbo’s questions.

“You came for me,” was Bilbo’s first throaty words. Bofur made a small noise in the back of his throat and nuzzled Bilbo’s neck.

“Of course we did, you nitwit,” Nori said playfully. Lord Elrond’s smile seemed to grow. The female Elf chuckled softly. “We said we would.” Bilbo’s eyes slipped shut. The relief crashed over him in waves.

“Bilbo!”

“Bilbo? Hey, everyone, Bilbo’s awake!” Bilbo opened his eyes at the twin shouts. Fili and Kili dashed through the open door and jumped on the foot of the bed. Bilbo grinned as the mattress bounced up and down.

“You’re awake!” Kili crowed, falling sideways. Fili leapt on his brother in a bout of playfulness and they rolled around the mattress.

A wizened man dressed in gray stepped into the room. Gandalf leaned against his staff, smiling to himself. Tauriel and Legolas strode in after him, both wearing their own smiles of joy and relief. Bifur bolted past them, the rest of the crew hot on his heels. The room was filled with shouts of joy and welcoming to Bilbo. Several hands patted his arms and legs. Ori even burst into tears.

_“You have found a good family, Bilbo Baggins,”_ a voice whispered in Bilbo’s mind. His eyes sought out the female Elf in the room. She smiled at him. _“I am Galadriel, the Lady of the Woodland Realm.”_

“Galadriel,” Bilbo repeated in a whisper. His eyes didn’t leave the Elf, even as one more Dwarf stepped into the room. Thorin remained in his place beside the door, his arms crossed.

“What happened?” Bilbo asked. As usual, his question was not lost in the cacophony of voices. The Dwarves fell silent, all turning to one another to tell the story.

“We rescued ya from the Barrow Downs,” Bofur said. “And brought ya here ta Rivendell when Gandalf found us.”

“Lord Elrond has been caring for you ever since,” Gandalf continued. He smiled to his friend who clasped his hands behind his back. Lord Elrond nodded to Bilbo.

“The physical injuries I could heal,” the Elf-Lord said. “Your skull and brain tissue healed itself from the injuries sustained in the Barrow Downs. Your mind, though, was another matter.”

“What those scientists did to you rent your mind to pieces.” All eyes turned to the Lady of the Wood. She kept her eyes glued on Bilbo. “You have been asleep for months.”

“ _Months_?”

“We have kept you that way. You woke several times, but you were never lucid enough to answer our questions.”

“You started biting yourself,” Nori said, hugging Bilbo. “Just like with the nightmares. So they tied your arm down.”

“But then you were tryin’ to bit your tongue,” Dwalin continued. “So they had to lock your mouth up too.”

“I have been spending these many months repairing your mind,” Galadriel said, as though she had not been interrupted. “You are whole once more, Bilbo Baggins. Your nightmares will no longer haunt you.”

“What about the other Hobbits?” Bilbo asked softly. Lord Elrond inhaled sharply and Gandalf shifted on the spot. “Gandalf, what about the other Hobbits? You didn’t just leave them, did you?”

“That is work in progress,” Gandalf told him. Bilbo’s mouth snapped shut. “Thorin and his crew managed to rescue two other Hobbits who are currently healing here in Imladris. Lord Dain has proclaimed the Khazad System free of the Government of the Free Peoples. They are at war with the Government over the rights of the Shire System.”

“Lord Fengel has offered us support,” Balin said with his hands on his hips. He gave Bilbo a wry smile. “He will not send troops for the war, but he has withdrawn all aid to Gondor until the Government secedes the System.”

“In response Gondor has banished the Government from their System,” Thorin said from his place in the doorway. Bilbo looked to his friend but Thorin avoided his eyes. “The Government has been forced to move all their Stations to another System. No Elf, Man, or Dwarf will help them any longer.”

“That’s . . . good,” Bilbo said. A silence fell in the room. The crew shifted nervously on their feet. Gandalf hummed to himself. Tauriel and Legolas slipped from the room with smile toward Bilbo. They were glad to see him awake again. Bilbo started to wonder if he should fake a stroke when a new voice arose from the door.

“Bilbo!” Estel shot into the room with Elrohir and Elladan on his heels. Another female Elf followed them, one Bilbo didn’t recognize. He supposed this had to be the younger sister the twins were always talking about: Arwen. She smiled sweetly at Bilbo, seeing him awake.

“Bilbo, Bilbo,” Estel cried, shaking his friend happily. “Is it true? Did you go to war and fight Orcs and save the Arkenstone?” Bilbo could only laugh and answer that yes, he did all those things and more. Estel was so enthused he squealed for an entire minute. Until Elrond whisked his adopted son out of the room. Bilbo laughed and laughed and laughed. All was well. Things were getting better.

O.o.O

In the many weeks that he stayed on Rivendell, Bilbo couldn’t find Thorin. The captain continued to avoid him at every cost. Even to the point he ate dinner in his room while Bilbo ate with the rest of the crew. Galadriel refused to help locate Thorin for Bilbo with her mind-reading ability. _He’d come on his own_ , she said. Bilbo just had to give him time. Well, Bilbo had given Thorin plenty of time and the Dwarf captain still wasn’t talking. He was taking matters into his own hands.

Bilbo marched throughout the halls of Imladris. Elrohir and Elladan found his plight completely hilarious and laughed him away when he asked for their help. Estel was too hyper and often ended up chasing after rabbits and butterflies. Arwen would help once in a while, but their conversations always landed on songs and stories. They would stand for hours on end in the middle of halls, gardens, and – in one memorable instance – the kitchen doorway. Dinner was late and nobody was happy. Except for Arwen and Bilbo, who’d had a wonderfully exhilarating conversation about Lúthien and Beren.

He found Thorin by the end of week four. The Dwarf was standing on a balcony. _Úhúrud_ floated before her pilot as Thorin stroked her hull. It reminded Bilbo very much of a pet bird. The ship cooed and sang all the while Thorin speaking to it in soft tones. At Bilbo’s arrival, _Úhúrd_ gave one surprise chirp them spun and flew away. Thorin started, whirling around. His eyes widened when he spotted Bilbo.

“No you don’t,” Bilbo said when Thorin made to leave. “I want a word with you.” Thorin leaned back against the railing, resembling a dog with his tail between his legs. Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. For a moment he wished it was longer. His hair was taking a long time to grow back from the events of the Barrow Downs.

“Bilbo, I am sorry,” Thorin said, raising his hands in a placating manner. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I did not know what to say. I hurt you, Bilbo. I did unforgivable things.”

“You were under the Dragon Sickness.”

“That does not excuse my actions,” Thorin snapped. Bilbo blinked in surprise at the anger. Thorin inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. When they were open once again, Bilbo could see the pain in them.

“I would take back everything I said and did if I could,” the Dwarf said. “You were only trying to help me. I was blinded by the gold to see it.”

“Again, Dragon Sickness.”

“Bilbo-.”

“No, you listen to me,” Bilbo snapped back. Thorin raised an eyebrow at his sharp tones. “You can’t just think . . . I spent days . . . Ugh, how do I even explain this?” Bilbo chewed on a knuckle as he thought. An idea came to mind. Something that would surely get him killed. At least it would help relieve some of the tension. “Thorin, can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Aye,” Thorin said. Bilbo took a deep breath. He had to fight the smile growing on his face.

“All my life has been a series of doors in my face,” Bilbo sang, almost breaking down into laughter. Thorin blinked at him in shock. “And then suddenly I bump into you.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin began, but Bilbo cut him off with more of the song.

“And it’s nothing like I’ve never known before.” Bofur had only shown the movie to Bilbo once or twice during their journey, so the Hobbit still didn’t have all the words down pat. He was determined, though. He could sing _Heigh-Ho_ and _Colors of the Wind_.

“Bilbo, I am trying to have a serious conversation with you,” Thorin shouted over Bilbo’s singing. But Bilbo was having too much fun.

“Say goodbye to the pain of the past!”

“Bilbo, would you stop?”

“We don’t have to feel it anymore!”

“Stop it!”

“Love is an open door!”

“I will kill you!” Thorin roared, leaping at Bilbo. The Hobbit darted for the doorway of the balcony and took off down the hall. Thorin was hot on his heels.

“Don’t hate on the twenty-first century,” Bilbo shouted over his shoulder.

“Get back here so I can strangle you!”

“Not with that kind of attitude!”

“ _Bilbo_!”

Bilbo led Thorin on a high-speed chase all throughout Imladris. They passed several Dwarves, all of whom roared with laughter at the sight of their captain chasing their Hobbit. Bofur even joined in Bilbo’s song of _Heigh-Ho_ when he heard it. Nori egged Bilbo on when Thorin nearly tripped over his own feet. While the Dwarves were happy to see the chase, the Elves were thinking the exact opposite. Except for Tauriel, Legolas, and Tauriel’s crew – who found it absolutely hilarious – they called for the two to stop running in the halls. Galadriel watched the two run by with a knowing smile on her face.

The chase ended right where it began. Bilbo collapsed on the floor of the balcony, his chest heaving. His lungs burned with the exhilaration. Thorin fell on his stomach beside him. The two friends simply laid there for a few minutes as they caught their breath. Eventually, Thorin perched himself up on his elbows.

“I understand if you do not want to fly with us anymore, Bilbo,” he said. “Lord Elrond has offered to keep you safe.”

“Are you kidding?” Bilbo gasped out. “I don’t want to be anywhere else in the universe.”

“But why?” Thorin asked in confusion. “You would be happier here on Rivendell.”

“I really don’t think so.” Bilbo turned his head to smile at Thorin. “We’ve been through so much together. I don’t think I could ever let this crew go. I want to sail to the ends of the universe with you. Besides,” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Mother would get mad.” Thorin threw back his head and roared with laughter. It made Bilbo’s heart light with joy. He and Thorin were on good terms once more.

O.o.O

By June they were preparing to leave. The Elves of Rivendell patched up the engine of _the Arkenstone_ under Bofur’s careful eye. Weapons were sharpened and cleaned. Clothes were hemmed. The ship’s kitchen was stocked with only the finest ingredients. A small crisper labeled _Bilbo_ was filled with all sorts of fruits and vegetables for him to enjoy. None of the Dwarves would touch it.

Tauriel and her crew, Legolas, Dain, Gandalf, and the house of Elrond came to see them off. Estel cried over the loss of his friend. Bilbo assured him they would be back. They exchanged Vein IDs and Estel made Bilbo promise to call him once a week. Arwen and her brothers swooped down to hug Bilbo goodbye before they hauled Estel off for some games.

And then it was Tauriel’s turn. Her crew bowed low to the crew of _the Arkenstone_. Playful banter was exchanged between the two. Despite the amount of fighting that had gone on during their short time together, the two seemed to have good relations. They even demanded visits once a year from Thorin’s crew. Tauriel crouched low to hug first Bilbo and then Fili, Kili, and Ori.

“Thank you for the adventure,” she said, straightening up. “It was the most fun I have had in my life.” Legolas snorted and shook his head.

“Thank _you_ for your help,” Bilbo responded. His eyes flicked to the _Bainrîn_ behind the Elves. “What are you going to do now?”

“Legolas is returning home. His father has demanded it. My crew and I will remain by Dain’s side fighting for your cause.”

“Hey,” Kili said, catching Tauriel’s attention. “Don’t be a stranger. Come and visit us once in a while.” Tauriel smiled to him and bowed low, stepping aside to allow Gandalf forward.

“Where will you go?” Gandalf asked as he drew back from a hug with Bilbo. Thorin looked to him from the corner of his eye.

“Edoras,” the captain said. “We promised Lord Fengel we would visit.”

“And after that?” Gandalf asked, a twinkle in his eye. Thorin’s eyes flicked to Bilbo and he smiled.

“Jobs. We have contacts who can set us up with jobs. We can take Bilbo around the universe. I think he would like that.”

“ _He_ is standing right here,” Bilbo pointed out, and the Dwarf and Wizard laughed.

“These came for you,” Gandalf said. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a series of pamphlets. Thorin accepted them and opened one.

“Richard Armitage,” he read aloud. He looked up to the Wizard with a cocked eyebrow. “Who is Richard Armitage?”

“You are,” Gandalf said. “A former agent of the Government sent these to you. He has marked you all as dead. You died quite bloody deaths in the Battle for the Barrow Downs, I will have you know. Dwalin lost his head.” Dwalin choked on the laughter that had been escaping his mouth. “Use these IDs anywhere there is Government control. They will keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said with a nod before turning to his cousin. “Thank you for all your help, Dain.”

“It was my pleasure,” Dain said, chuckling. “When are you goin’ to come take over the throne from me?”

“When my ships no longer stays in the sky,” Thorin said with a smile. “I have something for you.” Digging in his pocket, he held out the Arkenstone. Dain looked from it back to Thorin then shook his head.

“I can’t take that.”

“It drove me mad.”

“Which is why I won’t take it,” Dain said. He pushed Thorin’s hand back to his owner. “Keep it. Lock it away somewhere safe.” Thorin sighed but nodded, stuffing the stone back into his pocket. Dain turned to Bilbo. “It was great ta meet you, Bilbo.”

“It was good to meet you too,” Bilbo said seriously. “Thank you so much for all your help.”

“It’s the least I can do. You stopped a war from breakin’ out between Thranduil and me.” Bilbo blushed brightly. “Don’t hesitate ta stop by and stay fer a while,” Dain said. Planting both hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, he head-butted Bilbo hard. Bilbo’s world spun wildly as he stumbled backward. Pain bloomed in his forehead. Several of the Dwarves on his crew shouted angrily while Dain apologized through his laughter.

Once Bilbo’s world had calmed down once more, he turned to the gathered group. Before him stood people who had fought for him. From the crew of _the Arkenstone_ who had been there since the beginning to Tauriel and Legolas, who had joined the fight later on. They were his family now. People he could count on. Taking a deep breath, Bilbo spoke.

_“Road goes ever ever on,_

_Over rock and under tree,_

_By caves where never sun has shown_

_By streams that never find the sea;_

_Over snow by winter sown,_

_And through the merry flowers of June,_

_Over grass and over stone,_

_And under mountains on the moon._

_Roads go ever ever on,_

_Through the cloud and through the star,_

_Yet feet that wandering have gone,_

_Find at last a home afar._

_Eyes that fire and sword have seen_

_And horror in the halls of stone_

_Look at last on places been,_

_And faces and friend they now have known.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to go get the oil changed in the car, but I'll be back soon to write the epilogue.


	64. Our Hobbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And voila, we have reached the end of the story.

_This story is dedicated to many characters and people:_

_To Castor, who kept me going when the going got tough._

_To Bilbo Baggins, who was never afraid to speak up and tell me when something went wrong._

_To the entire crew of the Arkenstone: Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin, who were there for me when the story started to scare me._

_To Bard, Thranduil, Tauriel, Legolas, Smaug, Dain, Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and yes, even you Attercop, who held this story together like glue._

_And to you, my readers, who have been my side through this entire journey. Whether you never commented or that’s all you seemed to do, my thanks. Without you, this story would never have gotten done._

_And finally, to Tolkien, who wrote one hell of a story and left just enough gaps for me to write my own._

_I’ll see y’all round in the ‘verse._

**Our Hobbit**

Life on a ship that wasn’t going on any death-filled adventures was quite different than Bilbo had thought it would be. For one thing, meals were a large mess. More of the food ended up being thrown around into other Dwarves’ mouths than the throwers. Multiple times Bilbo found himself eating a mouthful of meat or bread and wondering just how he had caught it.

Bifur returned to chasing his cousin around with sharp objects, something Bofur wasn’t too happy about. And Bofur returned to his many pet projects. The wormhole generator returned to the drawing board alongside water-run engines and various small robots. Bombur was content to remain in the kitchen where he learned to make Hobbity meals for Bilbo. The two could be found talking about food whenever they were sharing a room together.

Fili and Kili maintained their duties as pilots. Many times they were found sitting together in the puzzle-strewn cockpit whispering in their secret language. They were nearly inseparable after their death experiences. Thorin let up on them a bit, especially after Kili cashed in his blackmail. Bilbo had never seen Thorin run so far away from a sibling before. Dis ordered them back to the Blue Mountains several months after the quest where she cooed over her sons, welcomed Bilbo into the family, and proceeded to nearly kill her brother.

Balin took on the duty of advisor as well first-mate. Though Dain had his own set of advisors, he called in from time to time to get advice from the older Dwarf. Balin was always happy to help, especially where Erebor was concerned. Dwalin’s relationship with his brother mended. He found himself speaking with Balin about his past, how it had changed his life, and what it was still doing to him. Together, the brothers moved past strained relationship and patched it up.

Dori, Nori, and Ori were still found fighting every once in a while. As the Black-Market ambassador, Nori was prone to getting into bar-fights, street-brawls, and generally just getting hurt. Dori tried to force his brother away from the dangerous life, but all it earned him was a cold shoulder and another shouting match. After that week, Dori returned to fussing over Ori and Bilbo. Ori was quite content with it, especially when Dori started to realize his younger brother was growing up. Bilbo felt he could have done without, but the more he avoided it the more Dori did it. It was like a bad penny. Eventually Bilbo just gave in and let it happen. Dori wrote a book on the culture of Hobbits and published it under the pseudonym _Mark Hadlow_. The book was only released to the Khazad System where the Dwarves ate it up, learning all they could about the lost race.

Oin’s hearing never truly returned, but the older Dwarf couldn’t have cared less. He enjoyed turning his hearing aids off to the annoyance of the rest of the crew. The only problem he had was forgetting to turn them back on. Thorin only kept himself from spacing the shouting medic by Bofur intervening in the shouting conversations. Gloin kept a careful watch on his older brother, happy to put his needs aside for Oin. No bothered to mention that Oin had caught wind of what was going on and had started to turn the idea around on Gloin. The younger of the two seemed oblivious to the fact that many of Oin’s needs were really his own.

As for Thorin . . . Thorin returned to being a captain. The Arkenstone was stowed away in a box and dropped into the floor of the ship, never to be seen again. Thorin hoped. He kept a firm grip on his crew, or so he thought, and returned to working their jobs for unlikely individuals. Bilbo was beyond ecstatic when Thorin returned his mother’s ring with a promise from the heart: he would never hurt Bilbo in that way again. Lacking both navigational and flying skills, Thorin ran his ship from behind the pilot’s seat and away from maps. He kept their course straight and true for the sake of Bilbo’s unending curiosity.

True to Galadariel’s word, the nightmares vanished. Bilbo slept through the nights fine now, to the point he even returned to his own room. But only for a single night. Dwalin had marched in the very next night and dragged the Hobbit to his bed. Apparently he wasn’t letting Bilbo out of his sights any time soon.

Oin kept an annoyingly close watch on Bilbo. He took weekly blood samples and PTSD tests. The blood samples showed no changes with either the _nonfant_ or the medical mites. The PTSD, though, vanished. With the crew’s help, Bilbo no longer suffered from the horrors of his past and even got over the fact that he was an experiment. In fact, he used this to his advantage whenever Thorin started annoying him. That and throwing stones. He wasn’t giving that up for the world.

Gandalf joined their ship every now and then, as well as Tauriel. The Elf found more joy in traveling with them and doing the occasional job than standing by her crew near the Shire System. Gandalf brought word on how the war was going. The Government and Dain had come to a standoff. Both refused to surrender and had a constant flow of soldiers and weapons. At the moment they had reached a rocky truce. The _U’zugh Khazad_ circled the Shire System with their great ships and blocked the Government from sending any more aid in. Several times they had made small hits on the outer belt of Buckland and the Barrow Downs, taking any Hobbits they could find. The Hobbits were bundled up and taken with the upmost care to Thranduil who had started his own reservation on the Woodland Realm. Hobbits lived in their own small hills, catered directly by the Elves and taught the ways of the universe.

Bilbo Baggins had another matter: Bag-End. Left to their own devices, his family would seize his home for all it was worth. This was certainly not to his liking. There was no way Lobelia Bracegirdle and her father were getting his home. To combat this, Bilbo wrote up a living will. Thorin, Dain, Thranduil, Fengel, Elrond, Galadriel, and Bard all signed witness to the will in red ink, as was the laws of the Hobbits. They may not have all been there at once, but they saw no other reason than to sign it for Bilbo. The will stated that his home would be passed down to Fosco Baggins and then Drogo Baggins, his eldest son, and would _stay_ in that line. Bilbo was very adamant about that part and even got Balin’s advice on how to cement it down. He did not want any part of his home stolen away by the Bracegirdles or Sackville-Bagginses. With the will he sent the chest of treasure the Dwarves had brought for him from the trollshaw. It would serve its uses better there, he figured.

Life was good for Bilbo Baggins. Better than it had initially been. The first Hobbit of the experiment to survive, he lived his days out on _the Arkenstone_. Both the ring and the mithril shirt came in handy during their rather dangerous jobs. Dwalin taught Bilbo to use _Sting_ correctly. Balin taught him the ways of the universe like a father. Fili, Kili, and Ori played Spider in the Net with him through the rafters. For the first time in forever, Bilbo had a family again. He was home.

.

.

.

_A note from Thorin Oakenshield:_

            My name is Thorin Oakenshield, I captain the ship _the Arkenstone._ She is a hardy ship, been through a lot of trouble. Her crew is one of the best. We have a few pilots, engineers, a medic . . . we even managed to pick up a Hobbit on the way. If you have a job, we can get it done for you.

We do not much care what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether this is your stop or you hop on the Arkenstone for another adventure is your choice. I wish you well, wherever your path takes you. Don't do anything Bilbo wouldn't do, don't board mysterious ships, and - above all else - DON'T get involved with a story that was supposed to simple.
> 
> See you in the 'verse.


	65. A Hobbit's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hop on board the Arkenstone for the next great adventure! Your pilots are Fili, Kili, Bilbo, and Merry! The flight might get off to a rocky start, but we should even out from there. Turbulence are expected, as are Orc attacks, creepy hitchhikers, and just the general nuisance of Dwarves in Space plus a few Men, a Wizard, an Elf, and a few Hobbits sprinkled in there. So please buckle up, raise your seat up straight, and prepare for a whacky journey.

_**The Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space** _

**A Hobbit’s Tale**

Old age had not been kind to Peregrin Took. The Hobbit, once a spritely tween on an adventure, was now ninety-five years old. His body could no longer handle him skipping around and leaping onto ships. His joints ached with movement. The arthritis in his right elbow acted up on cold days, leaving him sore for at least a week afterward. The scar in his chest had never faded.

There were many things the Ent Draught could fix, but Peregrin’s horrors of the past was not one of them. He would wake from a nightmare in the middle of the night only to remember he was home safe in bed. If it wasn’t the nightmares, then it was the general pain of the scar. There were some day he couldn’t even get out of bed. On those days – in Gondar, at least – there was always someone by his bedside. Normally it was Legolas, Tauriel, Faramir, or even Aragorn. Once upon a time that had been Meriadoc Brandybuck, his cousin and best friend. But no longer. Not since the August of this last year.

At the ripe age of seventy, his eyesight had stared to go. By seventy-three he was completely blind. His son bought him a walking stick to use, though he rarely did. His eyesight may have gone, but it did nothing to awareness He still heard clear as day, even if the other person was clear across the universe. He depended more on this than his sight.

Once upon a time, Peregrin – known as “Pippin” or “Pip” by his friends – had been one of four Hobbits who went on the adventure. With Meriadoc having passed on and Sam and Frodo gone out to the Elves’ System that left him alone. He kept in touch with Frodo. Sam had passed away a few years before, content in his life with the Elves. Galadriel even kept her contact with Pippin, speaking with him at the most inopportune times. These were mainly times when Pippin’s mind had begun to wander. His son, Faramir II could find him sitting in a chair for hours on end just staring out a window. Pippin didn’t really mind it. He enjoyed his conversations with Galadriel.

A hand tapped Pippin on the shoulder gently, drawing him from his thoughts. The elderly Hobbit had chosen to spend the September afternoon at his friend’s graveside seated on a stone park bench. Someone had brought him second breakfast earlier, a kind boy with a strong sense of loyalty, but Pippin had hardly paid attention to it. Turning his head, Pippin listened intently. He smiled when he recognized the newcomer.

“Faramir,” he greeted happily.

“I thought you would’ve heard me coming,” Faramir commented. He moved to sit down beside Pippin, steadying the Hobbit when he made to move. “No, please, don’t move because of me.”

“I’m sorry, Faramir,” Pippin said as he settled back down. His right hand groped for his walking stick. It had fallen sometime when he hadn’t been paying attention. “I was thinking.”

“About Merry?” Faramir asked, and Pippin’s heart twinged with loss. A strong, apologetic hand patted his shoulder. Faramir didn’t need to speak to console Pippin for his loss. Their bond went deeper than words could ever go. It always had, ever since they’d met.

“No, actually, I was thinking about Frodo,” Pippin said. He turned his head in the direction of Merry’s grave. Several times Aragorn had offered him a pair of shaded glasses and each time he’d refused. He was proud to wear his marks of old age. It meant he’d survived.

“How is Frodo doing?” Faramir asked. “I miss seeing him around here.”

“He’s holding on,” Pippin sad sadly. “But he’ll be going soon.” Faramir patted his shoulder once more and Pippin smiled up at him. “I’m not worried,” he said. “He has lots of friends nearby to help him. Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond . . . They’ll all help him.”

“You have friends too,” Faramir reminded him. “In fact, you’ve some visitors today.” Pippin perked up at the mention of visitors. People rarely came to see him anymore. His children lived too far away to see unless they chatted over the Roots. Faramir II would update his father on how he’d been as acting Thain ever since Pippin’s departure. It warmed Pippin’s heart to know his son was doing well.

“Who’s come?” Pippin asked. Even though he already knew the answer he loved hearing the words come from Faramir’s mouth.

“The Dirty Baker’s Dozen,” Faramir said, and Pippin’s leapt for joy. He was off the stone bench in a second, his hand reaching for the walking stick. It jumped into his fingers, most likely thanks to Faramir’s quiet aid, and a strong hand took his own. “They’re waiting in the front courtyard. My Lord Elessar has given them the area for use for as long as they need.”

“How I miss seeing good old Strider,” Pippin sighed. If Faramir had anything to say, he didn’t voice it aloud. A moment of silence told Pippin the Man, in fact, had nothing to say to that.

Faramir led Pippin through the halls of the palace. Merry and Pippin had chosen to spend their last few years on Gondor. The decision had been made when Eomer had called for Merry to visit him. The two friends had made the journey in time to be at the King’s side when he passed on. Merry had wept openly and quietly for days. Pippin had remained by his friend’s side, offering as much comfort as he could.

“Here we are,” Faramir said. His voice, once again, dragged Pippin from his thoughts. The Hobbit shook his head. He really needed to start paying more attention. All this spacing out was leading to gaps in memory and confusion, not to mention too many conversations with the Lady Galadriel. Then again, she always seemed happy to oblige to Pippin’s desire for a conversation. Not once in the many years that Pippin had known her had she turned him aside.

“Pippin!” a young voice cried out. Pippin grinned wickedly. Already he could see the lanky dark hair and stubble of a beard.

“Pip!” another voice called. A mane of blond hair, so much like a lion’s, with a beautiful mustache to match. “There you are. We’ve been waiting forever. Ow!”

“That is enough, you two,” a voice growled. Black hair braided delicately and a beard kept short for mourning. A pity Thorin had never been able to grow it out. Those dratted medical mites just had to ruin everything.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Faramir said, releasing his hold of Pippin’s hand. “I’m a call away if you need me.” Pippin nodded. The Man patted him one more time on the shoulder before leaving. Turning back to the, surely large, group of Dwarves, Pippin let his awareness go. They were all present, every single one, including a certain Hobbit.

“How’re you feeling, lad?” Bilbo asked from a short distance away.

“Still kicking,” Pippin joked. He began to move forward, tapping his walking stick back and forth. A calloused hand landed on his arm, the knuckledusters brushed his bare skin as the thick fingers wrapped around his own. Dwalin led him slowly forward where Dori and Balin helped ease him into a chair.

“Thank you,” Pippin said to the Dwarves. Dori stroked his hair gently before giving him the gentlest of head-butts. “It’s great to see you all again.” Someone snorted to his left followed by a smack then a yelp.

“Sorry,” Kili mumbled, and Pippin’s wicked grin returned.

“You can’t blame him for laughing,” he told Thorin. “I am blind, anyway. No harm in laughing.”

“You do not know my nephews well enough,” Thorin said, though he sounded relaxed. “Give them an inch and they will take a mile.”

“Sounds like me,” Pippin crowed. Several of the Dwarves around him laughed. He waited patiently, chuckling to himself, for the crew to quiet down. Once they had, Nori still guffawing, he chose to address the elephant in the room. “So . . . why’re you all here.” Nori’s guffaw cut short at that. Someone shifted nervously around. Pippin couldn’t tell who. He’d never been good at the boot sizes.

“The Government, er, new Government,” Bilbo began. Pippin listened earnestly, trying his hardest to follow manners’ protocol. “They want the entire story written down for the history books. And, well, seeing as . . .”

“I’m the only Hobbit left,” Pippin finished. He was sure Bilbo nodded and then realized he was nodding to a blind man. There was nothing else that long silence could have been.

“Well, yes,” Bilbo said. “And you have contact with Frodo. So we were wondering if you’d be willing to share yours and Frodo’s stories.”

“What about yours?” Pippin asked.

“Oh, I’ve already written it,” Bilbo said.

“He did,” Kili interrupted. “ _There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale_ by Bilbo Baggins.” Another smack, another yelp. “Sorry.”

“But you had a part in this story,” Pippin argued. “In our story. You all did. I mean . . . Bree and Moria and the War of the Ring. You were all there.”

“And that, laddie,” Balin said to his right. “Is why we thought it would be better if we all told our stories together. You, Bilbo, and us the crew.” Pippin was silent for several long minutes. He heard the shuffling of feet and sniffling of noses. Then realization dawned on him.

“You’re leaving,” he said.

“Aye,” Thorin answered in his deep voice. Pippin turned his head in his direction, gripping the walking stick tightly. “But not for another few years. We plan to head for the Elves’ System with Gimli, Legolas and Tauriel. And they will not go until . . .”

“Until Strider and I are gone,” Pippin finished. He heard a sigh and just _knew_ Thorin was nodding. “Alright, great, where do we start?”

“I suppose we start at the very beginning,” Bilbo said.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit,” Kili said. Pippin heard him clap his hands together.

“Not that beginning!”

“Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole full of the ends of worms and oozy smells,” Fili continued.

“I said not that far!”

“This was a Hobbit hole,” Bofur said. Pippin was fairly certain the Dwarf was drunk . . . again. This should prove interesting.

“Would you listen to me?”

“Which means good food,” Nori said.

“Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“A warm hearth,” Dwalin said.

“Knock it off!”

“And all the comforts of home,” Thorin finished. Bilbo huffed and stomped his foot. Pippin, though, laughed. This was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard, aside from the time he and Merry had pranked Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Are you done?” Bilbo huffed.

“Maybe,” Bofur said mischievously. Pippin wiped a tear from his eyes.

“Well,” he said. “If your story starts in a hole in the ground then so does ours. Seventeen years before our great adventure you sent Frodo a birthday present: a shiny sword, a mithril coat, and a pretty little ring that he should _never, ever_ wear in public . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here? Good. All complaints to the pilots may be made out in the boxes below. Please note that all are looked over and flames will be used to fuel the Arkenstone. Thank you for joining us on our flight through our Big Damn Adventure.


End file.
